Fractured Reflections

Liquid ink spills dreams upon the canvas
where shadows whisper secrets of time untold.
The echo of a clock strikes midnight—
drifting, streaming, a delicate serpentine dance,
entangled roots beneath sapphire skies. {[Inverted questions hang above} as memories slip
and dissolve like sugar in rain—
have they tasted loss?
Every glance, a fractal voice echoes back,
rippling in the pond of existence.
One door closes and another cracks open wide,
spewing fog from unfinished thoughts;
do you hear the silence retaining time itself?