Chains of rainfall forgotten, beneath the archives of night, in a eulogy of raindrops / Polished mirrors reflect memories of voices, / Voices that once scraped cavernous skies, echoing pictures of forgotten relics blurred.
In the flickering river-pages, intertwined we find travels in void phrases, / Histories kneeling over binding roots–silent sculptures molded by seasons. / Lanterns spit lucent mysteries across the dust of erased stories, where lost names linger like once-bright comets.
Commit to the Sleight Hidden Reverie