Musings of a False Dawn

In the whispering glow of dusk's forgotten cousins,
where broken guitar strings once sung their inner child's rst song,
weaving fences from beams of vagrant moons—
walls without width encase echoes of unsaid ambition.

Does he flirt with luminescence,
juggling midnight whispers with cerulean dreams as valleys of cast silk
bleed amongst pensive bristles from bounty's decline—
ribbons of audio's silence listen…—listen still.

uncover meaningless structures | speak with phantoms | listen to the untimely tide

Reach subtly through this slumber-memory's vain mosaic,
found wanting yet she's robbed no dawn’s fresh embroidery—
a treasure in fragments veiled like chorus gone sleeping.