In shadows deep, the whispers creep,
Silent echoes of dreams, the dead still speak.
Beneath the soil, where darkness reigns,
Their voices echo, free from earthly chains.
With gentle hush, they tell their tales,
Of love and loss, of ships set sail.
Their words so soft, yet filled with might,
Revealing secrets concealed from sight.
They speak of journeys, of passions untold,
Their wisdom ancient, etched in bold.
Through unseen veils, they sing their songs,
A symphony of voices, righting all wrongs.
In this realm of darkness, they find release,
Guiding lost souls to find inner peace.
As night unfolds, their tongues unfold,
A tapestry of stories, a treasure untold.
Though silenced by death, their voices persist,
For even in slumber, the dead still exist.
In this Grave of death, their spirits find peace,
Transcending the limits of life’s brief lease.
So listen closely, for the whispers remain,
From the depths of the grave, they call your name.
©viralfreak
V