shimmer and shadow
vials of forgotten dreams
the scent of cinnamon and rust
swirling whispers, do you hear?
a potion for solitude
or perhaps one for secret smiles
the echo of hands mid-gesture
like fire flies
in an endless summer dusk
listen well, for the cauldron's song
is but an eternal echo
of things not said
minerals wrapped in soft
fabric, truths held gently
once there was a myth
of a scholar who
brewed silence itself
into tinctures
does the moon remember
its own forgotten light?
the alchemist wonders