Beneath the loom of stars unseen,
The whispers churn like ocean's hue—
In secret tongues, they sip the moon's
Radiant milk,
Singing songs of worlds askew.
Are you the tide that brings them home,
Or merely drifting where the echoes,
Shape their disguise? Behold the
Silent crest,
Crashing dreams where shadows roam.
Swim with the marigold silence
Dive into the rift of glassy screams
Stand amongst the echoed uprising