Between two hollow drops of dusk,
shadows entwine a forgotten dream.
Listen. The stars have written a poem
in the language of whispers,
infinite verbs concealed under a silence
heavy with echoes of what almost was.
Each heartbeat a stitch in the cosmic veil,
moments hesitating like moths in a flame.
Tongue binds to unravel the myth, and breathe—
time lingers in the empty glass,
as visions wade through a dreamer's sigh.
Tidals of thought softly crash
upon shores unseen,
where whispers converge and dissolve.
Dance with the ghosts of clarity,
equipped with nothing but absence;
reach for the nethersaturated continuum.