In the dusk of silence, where echoes dare not tread,
lies the whispered truth,* a fabric unseen.
Fingers stretch, yearn for the thread's embrace,
to weave into shadows, the light unseen.**
Shrouded in mists of a golden dawn,
a shadow speaks softly, stitched by dusk's hands.
To hold the essence, a breath in the void,
where time unwinds, and eternity pauses.***
Ember glows under the frostbite moon,
caress the unknown, a dance of dreams.
Grasp the wind's whisper, the heart's gentle sigh,
cradle the invisible, in night's gentle cradle.****