Falling... I dance through the void of sky,
eclipsing the stars in transient embrace,
a crystal bead forged from the cosmos' breath.
Perched upon a fragile web, I listen:
threads humming the song of forgotten realms,
where miracles bloom in the folds of time.
Whisper to the horizon
Nobody names the poetry we weave,
cascading eternally—everbound,
a delicate chaos in the symphony of January raven skies.
We, droplets adrift through the constellations,
each breath a universe, a world unformed,
forgotten yet eternal in its singularity.
Echoes of past's ecstasy