The sea murmurs its secrets
"Whisper to the stars, they know," she said, as I pondered
the kaleidoscope of emotions
a labyrinth unfurling
like the unfathomable depths of
one's own soul,
pulling on invisible threads
weaving dreams and reveries.
Magic is in the minutiae,
the tick of a clock,
the pause in a breath.

Beyond the horizon lies the echo of a faint memory,
where paths converge
and diverge,
like a breath drawn deep
and then released
into the void.



Somewhere in the corridor of dreams,
the shadows dance and play,
indulging in the frivolity of light,
refracted but never lost.

The maze of sentiments stretches,
an enigmatic tapestry stitched
with threads of twilight and dawn,
inviting yet elusive.

And so we wander,
beneath the archways of time,
seeking the whispered tales
that never were,
but perhaps always are.