Within each rhythmic pulse of the cosmos,
the moon basks the night in tranquil decay,
whispering untold secrets in silver tongues
steeped in forgotten star-dust fragrances.
Beneath lunar crowns, the psyche wades,
in silent torment adorned with cosmic lace,
unraveling stories of time unspent,
ever-watchful as twilight theaters fade away.
Seek shores unknown, reclaim whispers lost
at your journey’s end on the path less combatant:
solstice perception.
Let the whispers caress unseen scars
and awaken dormant echoes among phantom trees.
The serenade awaits—an eclipse of thought,
cruelty transformed to kindness in celestial hands.
Confront the afterglow: half-past midnight thoughts,
and find peace in the splendor of silency's void
as you drift, awaken at margins nearotal free souls.
In the end: one lens, one pivot, one fading image.
A fragrant reproach...
partake in divergent poetics here: echoes in sand.