In whispered echoes of wandering dreams,
ancient truths ensconce in mists of memory,
layers, like sediment, bind such truths
beneath the weight of time's relentless flow.
"Time, the relentless curator of forgotten tales."
Unearthed not by hands but by heartbeats heard through quiet jungles;
these glories, once radiant, now remain obscured,
fossilized in the amber of silent moments.
Distances measured in shadow lengths,
as the sun aligns with truths not spoken,
but known, deeply, in the marrow's void.
"When light bends, the unseen becomes seen."
Sculpted in ether, obscured by moisture,
a map of glories etched in forgetfulness
unfolds like ancient moss on stone.