The wilderness around me, it breathes a lonely sigh, a whispered mourning for souls lost;
amid the trees' skeletal embrace, I tread where shadows waltz in the hush of forgotten voices.
Who walks with us? I had reckoned the presence of another — but only whispers reply,
tangled in the gnarled branches that reach like bone fingers through the shroud of night mist.
An eternity stretches within this fleeting moment, where even echoes dare not tread.
Faces flicker in the periphery, draped in twilight's shroud, too familiar yet nameless.
I extend a hand; they draw near — they dance and quiver like shadows upon the moonlit lake's abyss.
Their eyes are moonlit mirrors, reflecting what cannot be spoken.