In the click-click-clicking void, time respires
Shadows burst like secrets, entwined with dreams
Synthetic serenity woven in melancholic litanies
Galaxies that weep mineral dust at the dawn.
A journey of dolls lined in silence, playing brush with invisible winds.
Circles within circles, arise from yesterday’s clay.
If each whippoorwill could carve screams into the stillness, would they dream of flesh?