Whispers in the Veil

The fog carries stories,
of things unsaid beneath
the streetlamp's dying glow.
Echoes ripple as if a curious
mind stood on the edges
of comprehension,
verbal jigsaw assembled from
whispering leaves.

visions collide,
fragments singing in
colors unseen
yet felt upon thrumming
skin that forgets
its own name.

do you hear them too? they ask
in spiraling tones,
voices of autumn rain
pooling stories upon
the sidewalk's cracked
whispers. There’s a rhythm
that you cannot dance to
but it moves the heart into a
space uncharted,
painting dreams in
unread scripts.

laughter diamonds
hidden among
shadowed breaths
echoing in
the creak of unseen
doors, soft dawning
amidst branches that
sway to conspiracies
only they can
comprehend, understand
when to let go and let
earth consume
that which it desires.

This isn't a map, more a postscript in a letter never sent.
footprints of stars
left behind in
the fog of forgotten
mornings,
searching for
connections in
a wavering
present.

The silence speaks
and you don’t have
to see it
to believe, just
listen to
the unmuffled
cacophony beneath
the veil,
where truth blurs.

unspokentides.html
mainthoughts.html
murmur.html