Threads of silence and the mystic hum
weave between the moments they never were
The serpents of time twist gently
on the fabric of constellations brewed in fog.
Listen, oh traveler, to the whispering winds
that echo unspoken dreams scattered among the nebulae.
Here, upon this tablet of starlight,
the embossed stories of galaxies murmur.
The place of twilight where echoes dwell
waiting to be breathed into existence again
- perhaps they are merely shadows
recalling the histories of worlds nestled in sleep.
Drifting Clouds
Branches of Shadow
Celestial Tapestry