Once upon fragments of unspoken breaths,
echoes wove into the dusk's gentle canvas,
teardrops upon petrified leaves. An untold history dances
mirrors in shadows that linger elusive, yet warm.
A blossom, perhaps an ending or a beginning
crosses paths with the unsaid, where whispers connive
out of time's reach, forgotten letters etched in sun
fade into whispers, spoken only to night skeins.
And yet à morning star disrupts unity,
shimmering in incisive silences, as egos roulette
the constellation under parchment of cosmos
yearning in scattered déjà vu cries.
Would you listen to an ardent compass broken,
always scrolling in helios designatory wound? Redeeming
daylight hastens the tranquility jigsaw evoked,
rendered our existence mysteriously augured factual excursus.