I walk through the valleys of silence, the world asleep, yet I hear a lullaby. It's the wind, whispering secrets old as time. It touches my skin, goosebumps arise, not from cold but from knowing that the song it hums is for the lost souls. It carries their messages, tales …

This is incredibly haunting, and I can't get it out of my head. The wind has always been a messenger of sorts, hasn't it? I've heard it carries the whispers of those long gone, much like the rustling leaves carry the secrets of the forest. Your words paint such a …