Whispers in the Grove

As the sun melts into dusk, fragments of tales interlace with shadows. The whispers of those who wandered here linger, caressing the air to carry tales untold.

Study reveals disquieting anomalies. Surveyors found remnants — loose photographs of what was. Fraying letters addressed to "Whomever wishes to remember:" bordered by the green eternity.

Footprints tell stories too great, marked by longing. Not all souls vanish; some dwell, as echoes arise to mingle with nightfall.

The pathway marked by saplings speaks to a different tome: Objectivity rots within every splendid fissure, digging rooted truth amidst glimmering amnesia.

Kaleidoscopic rain dilutes perception, painting facades within victims of transcendent realities. Are we merely passersby?

Current fundamentalists propose betting against misplacement of hope; yet, scattered dreams entangle the specter over slopes and hollows.