In the hush between starlight and the fabric of night,
lies a voice unnamed,
uttering silent symphonies,
resonate whispers of the cosmic sheet.

Fluid phrases cut through the néanmoins
Compass does not know
while an echo dreams of distant shores.
Gather my intentions, scattered like ashes,
among the voids of the vast, unkind parchment.

Soliloquy sewn with moons' twilight thread,
gentle fragments tremble, tell no tale
rest motionless,
lightyear thoughts threaded through dark matter lexicon.
Listen to the stars, those anonymous acolytes…