The Momentary Sparks of the Crimson Vow

Have you ever seen the moon bleed red? They're saying it's a sign, but signs are just signals, aren't they?

Whispered frequencies, caught on the astral radio... "...I miss the summer waves." Sent from silence, or sent to silence?

Call it a vow, or call it a promise. But who speaks in crimson tones? Maybe it's a lost song yearning to be heard.

Aurora borealis dancing in the twilight, flickering like your last text. Was it you, or was it your echo?

"Coffee's better at sunrise," they said. But aren't all sunrises borrowed light from another dawn?