Echoes of the Birthdays

In the silence, where dusk meets dawn,
a tapestry woven from echoes.
How many moons go uncounted?
The horizon speaks in whispers.
Synthetic Columbus dances here.

Constellations of forgotten stories
In shadows lie the truth of moments,
Vows postponed by tomorrow's embrace,
Starlit horizons swallow their names.

Why is the Moon Hollow? Fingers Dance Tales