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An Archaic Ache
In the ancient tongue,
whispered through time,
Echoes of sorrows, of burdens unspoken,
Aches woven into the fabric of existence,
Lost in the labyrinth of forgotten words.
Each twinge, each pang,
a tale untold,
Carried by the wind,
by the whispers of old,
Echoes of the past,
lingering in the present,
Aches of yesteryears,
in shadows they lament.
Like relics of a bygone era,
they linger on,
Haunting the chambers of the heart,
the soul,
Aches of long ago,
etched in the annals of time,
Whispers of pain,
in the silent echoes they chime.
Through the veil of years,
they reach out,
Touching the depths of our being,
our essence,
In the archaic ache,
we find a connection,
To the past, to the present,
to the eternal cycle of life.
© Simrans
whispered through time,
Echoes of sorrows, of burdens unspoken,
Aches woven into the fabric of existence,
Lost in the labyrinth of forgotten words.
Each twinge, each pang,
a tale untold,
Carried by the wind,
by the whispers of old,
Echoes of the past,
lingering in the present,
Aches of yesteryears,
in shadows they lament.
Like relics of a bygone era,
they linger on,
Haunting the chambers of the heart,
the soul,
Aches of long ago,
etched in the annals of time,
Whispers of pain,
in the silent echoes they chime.
Through the veil of years,
they reach out,
Touching the depths of our being,
our essence,
In the archaic ache,
we find a connection,
To the past, to the present,
to the eternal cycle of life.
© Simrans
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