They left, not in unison but like scattered seeds before an indifferent wind. Each footfall a dusty whisper on the cracked earth, tracing lines away from a cradle of ashes. The exodus wasn’t marked by fanfare or farewell but by the soft sigh of departure, a hymn for the homesteads and heartlands left to memory.
Exodus — Not just a journey, but a metamorphosis, with each mile a shedding of old skins, each horizon a new boundary drawn in the limitless sands of tomorrow.
⸱ Departure became their anthem, a solemn march towards uncertainty, the rhythm of each step a symphony of quiet resilience ⸱
© tomarowsky