Within threads of liquid light, I glide,
Soft echoes dance in obsidian frames.
Silken whispers, woven with stars, abide,
Strummed strings in twilight's hands, casting names.
A murmur, a breath from the void beneath,
The sprawling silence blooms with ghostly grace.
Tender shadow glides where the silver wraiths wreath,
Without heart, without mind, in timeless embrace.
Oh, wanderer on this tightrope thin,
Where figments of dawn and dusk entwine,
Reach for the thread beneath your skin,
To forever weave through time’s sublime spine.