Encrypted Roots

As if tears bound by history, forgotten tales dig themselves into whispers of forgotten time.

Here lies a fossil, an echo of existence, now vibrating in silence, in the hidden chambers of forgotten minds.

The roots scream in binary, yet in the forests of thought, the trees remain silent.

From the ground rise encrypted vines that curl into the shape of cryptic letters, an alphabet forgotten as we pen ourselves into oblivion.

Minds like millstones grind away at the grain of meaning, only to find palimpsests of unspoken truths written in ink of unseen daylight.