In the moonlit paths where the silhouette dwells,
I hear the whisper of stars transcribing ancient whispers,
Do you understand the serenade of shadows?
Overnight, in the curl of another dusk, everything else is forgotten.
Perceptions stretch and snap back, uninterested, mending seams
with threads of silence spun out of cosmic webs.

Diagonal lines stretch beyond borders that
Meddle with time—kaleidoscope tears in
Loggerhead disguises—they scurry,
scrawl Murals of melodies mute & distant.
Yet, the silhouette beckons her husbandry horns
Crafting an ambiance made simply of empty breath and unheard applause.