Do shadows speak in riddles when they dance beneath stars unseen?
Your silhouette against the dawn that never breaks, casts whispers
of eternal longing in hues of delicate, lavender light.
The quandary lies not in the answering but the asking. To muse upon lips gently pressed,
a bouquet of whispered dreams tangled in the unseen breeze. What ardor ignites the heart's canvas?
Can we capture love's echo in words carved from silence? When the heart murmurs secrets,
do they too become silhouettes, cast by an invisible light that knows no dawn or dusk?
To lose oneself in the labyrinth, to wander endlessly, with each breath in the cold night air
igniting another star in the firmament of one's soul. Where the questions linger like
forgotten lullabies sung by the moon herself.