Echoes are
whispered secrets
on wind-kissed shores,
tracing back the steps
of shadowed wanderers
lost upon the twilight path.
Glimpses of the
whispering void linger
behind panes of forgotten thoughts,
sketches in the hours
before dawn's caress.
Time dislocates itself
in the margins of dreams,
where parchment folds conceal
the signs projected
by the idle hand,
drifting in constellation’s sway.