On one meandering hike through fields of gold,
Where evening’s shadows stretched and light grew old,
The path diverged through birch and whispering pine,
Each step a stitch within fate’s tangled line.

I came upon a strange, weathered fortress wall—
Its jagged stone teeth stood fierce, defiant and tall.
A sentinel of time, unyielding and still,
To fence the wild and bend nature’s stubborn will.

What secrets do these ancient boulders keep,
A barrier built by hands long laid to sleep?
I paused where shadows wove their dark embrace,
To seek the truths these stones might yet encase.

I laid my palm on moss and crumbling stone,
Felt winters’ icy chill seep deep into my bone.
A jolt shot through my veins, beneath my skin,
As restless spirits stirred, wakened within.

Tales told of blood-forged empires turned to dust,
Of kings and queens consumed by greed and lust.
Victims lost beneath the tyrant’s cruel reign,
Yet in these stones, their echoes still remain.

A crown built on conquest, blind to ruin’s cost,
Battles waged for treasure, countless lives lost.
Pride fed endless hunger, greed’s unyielding hold,
Now silence haunts the ruins where once gleamed gold.

Beneath the heavy weight of centuries’ breath,
The battered wall endures, defying death.
Yet cracks appear where silence softly grows,
And life returns again where ruin flows.

So let Earth reclaim its rightful throne,
With twisting roots and winds that gently moan.
Creeping ivy veils the wounds once cast,
While seasons turn, healing scars of the past.