Between the whispers of the clock hands, a silence
where footsteps echo not, but linger
Like memories not yet born, held by nothings in
The interstice, a pause, a forgotten breath, pulsating
Erratic and fluid, as the river of stars forgets its course
Ah! The lines deviate, spiral, ink blotting paper dances
Between dreams and awakenings, did you ever see the horizon?
Beyond blooming pastures where thoughts dissolve in dew.

Rain observes, yes, an indifferent witness
Tracing invisible lines upon window panes
Mandalas of droplets, fractals of time
Pulse... pulse... the broken rhythm sings
Yet in this brief space, the in-between
the unspoken word expands, like a cosmic sigh.