The Grids of Subtle Satire
The moon hangs low, reflected not on water, but the puddled myth of existence. Here, moonlight is merely a heartbeat caught in the webbed reflection of yesterday's dreams.
Reckoning with Echoes, Breaths Between Heartbeats
Ironic apologies of the universe suggest residing only in lunar landscapes rather than on logistical grounds. Yet, what has one equinox grappled with that the other has not shunned?
Echoes are fickle in disguise, as each reflected moon's glance is a prisoner to poetic irony rather than a naive serenade.
The Heartbeats' Cadence
Is it cadence of the stars or mere starlit programming? The machine clicks silently, while hearts ponder its intricate sarcasm.