In the dust of ages past, symbols breathe,
Mute witnesses to tales untold, lingering,
Arachnid scripts tracing stories in the sand.
What cosmos did you cartograph, Elder Scribe?
The stones secrets bear witness to, grasp those unseen hands,
Molding shadows amidst the light of day.
The lost voices yearning to be heard,
Speaking truths draped in the veils of time.
Dust motes dance where glyphs lie,
Bones etched in stone speak louder than words.
Here lies momentum, yet speaks the simplicity.
Who are you that lingers, beneath the skin of eternity?