In the hush of winds,
secrets unfold, Whispers carried on currents, untold.
Gentle voices, like echoes through time,
Speak of lives lived, in prose and rhyme.
Each rustling leaf, a chapter's refrain, People's stories etched upon the plain.
An open hall where prayers resound, Their sacred echoes, forever unbound.
The wind a messenger, weaves its tale, Of love, loss, and dreams that sail.
And as it rushes, then slows its flight, It carries our histories into the night.
Wind’s hold memories, ageless and uncouth.
In their soft murmur, ancient and free, Lies the essence of what once used to be.