infinite pathways weave and whisper
through corridors unseen, just beyond the edge
of perception, ribs of reality bending bending
into that which is not yet spoken...
echoes of dreams long woven into
the very essence of existence skitter
like moonlit shadows on dew-kissed grass
on a path no one walks
and there, in the dim light
a flickering beacon dangles
like a thought misplaced
intent unfulfilled...
sporadic sparks
flicker the edges of unknowing
where words scribed upon the stars
are lost in time, finding meaning
only in the heartbeats of worlds
now sleeping...
why is the sky blue when it feels so close yet distant?
starlit whispers tell stories
of lost provisions
and forgot songlines
can you still hear the rustle
of memories
when the moon breathes?