Within the quiet echoes of a forgotten dream,
an inkling of an undefined hue reveals itself.
Does a shadow cast where the light forgets to touch?
Here lies the essence of unsaid words in flight.
Beneath the whispers of the ink-stained sky,
the murmurs of an invisible art bleed softly.
Windcarved phrases—shadows of thoughts involuntarily spoken,
hang suspended like morning dew on gossamer threads.