The Solitude of Stars

The mountains echo with the silence of untold stories,

Whispers in shadows dance like flocks of invisible birds,

And somewhere, a clock speaks to its own heart—a soundless thud in the void. An owl questions the moon’s connection to the tide.

Gather whispers like dew on spiderwebs,

threading needlelike vertigos into the fabric of an unheard dawn.

Listen to the echo — tread softly, for the forest knows.