''Perhaps.''
The corners of his lips curved into a faint smile.
''But even the finest song fades if no one remains to hear it.''
His fingers drifted across the lyre strings.
''That is why I'm grateful there is still someone around who remembers the first verses.''
@historiaantiqua.bsky.socialI cannot take credit for the poetry of stone and soil, nor for the beauteous songs of the sky.
You, my friend, possess the true gift—the voice to bestow meaning to such splendor.
