In the depths of sand and stone, I found echoes of ancient whispers, impressions etched in time’s reluctant embrace. Each layer a testament, silently announcing the passage of epochs with stories untold.

The fossilized thoughts linger, now unearthed, like shadows of dreams long forgotten. They wade through the muck of memory, reaching for the light, only to recoil at its alien brightness.

Who were they, these spectral architects, who contrived the intricate tapestry of existence with their nimble minds? Beneath the weight of ages, their musings fossilized, yet now they stir, seeking hands to reshape their broken words.

Perhaps it is not the past that calls, but the future, an unopened door wreathed in vines of time. Each moment, a step upon the spiral, tracing back the path to the wide, waiting Now.