When the wind wears down the weighty wings of wisdom,
dark ages will cast seismic shadows that muddle truths,
silent silhouettes will skip to songs of a sinking kingdom,
but some will try to pry open Mother Areth's cuts and bruises.
When the grumbling ground opens up once again for all to see,
Areth's deepest secrets shall be seen flowing through arteries,
skeletal identities shall be revealed in graves of fallen leaves,
and the tales of past people shall no longer be a parted piece.
When the puzzle of questions is nearing its finished state,
answers will be abducted by avaricious animals,
cornerpieces will be besieging the center's diminished crater,
yet completion will not be a state but a road impassable.
The route to truth is one obstructed.
Fantastical aphorisms flitter
around as fading phantasms.
Apparitions of ancestral
explanations, slowly expunged
from records. Rivers running
red with blood of forgotten
twigs. All that remains is a
of serendipitous surprises.
When the one who wishes
for knowledge wakes their
watchful eye, Areth's
mysteries shall start to
surface in a sea of lies.