When the sun dips below the horizon, words dissolve,
The fabric of night stitches whispers known,
Shadows weave tales no light desires to tell.
Knowledge waits, an ocean of static,
Each ripple a silent crescendo.
Listen, as hearts pulsate in the quiet,
An atlas of unspoken truths.
Silence offers gifts unknown to sound,
In these depths, a mirror reflects what none dare see.