Voiceless Storytellers 

Whistling wind, moistureless, leafless; 
The prickly sun and a clear sky 

A queer silence that speaks-

Of legends, of lores, of the days gone by. 


In the middle of nowhere 

Stranded or secluded? know none 

Stand ruins of ambition, vigor and lucre 

Left to decay, left to be done. 


Voiceless storytellers waiting to be discovered 

Gaiety or melancholy? Know none.

And just like human life 

Once thrived, now gone. 


Where whispers end up echoing, 

And curiosity is teased  ;

Where abandonment sparks a conversation 
And fallen walls talk of wealth,

Lies buried a glorious past

Tranquility in the loneliness, 

Retains the forgotten charm. 

©










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