In the depths of sleep, stitched with fleeting shadows,
past dreams invoke the remnants of possibility;
laughter echoes off the damp walls
of crumbling stories carried away by time.
1 - From "Where Dreams Collide" by F. Narrith, chapter three;
the moth holds court in a faded luminescence,
debating the intention of movement.
2 - Interpretations linger as static on the old radio,
concealed ripples in the fabric of laughter—or was it sorrow?
3 - Refer to "Riddles of Light" penned by A. Ambrose;
one question whirls—a dance invitation lost*.
Entwined in enigma, sing this lullaby for aftertimes.
So long as night hollers, hold the serenity of the soft launch,
perhaps tomorrow, we'll marvel at our race against dusk.
But hark! Whispers reveal twists in fate—the tendrils of fate accrue
on decorative tendrils that entwine life in stasis.
Click the crickets below for more ethereal endeavors: