The Tree of the Moon
The moon's branches reach, fingers of silver clasping at the void. Do you remember the nights?
A tree, always the tree, shifting in shadows. What whispers? Beneath bark like the universe unraveling.
Forgotten voices murmur truths that aren't, reflections bouncing off walls of the soul.
Tremors from nowhere, resonating like the thud of unspoken words against a hollow chest.
The wind carries echoes back to yesterday's dreams, a relentless echo of anticipation.
Whisper your secrets to me, under the spectral glow of the nocturnal tree.