A kaleidoscope of crumbled whispers,
Where shadows of forgotten aeons play,
Beneath the alabaster gaze of stars.
The fabric of twilight unravels,
Stitch by silken stitch, exposing
The marrow of dreams once kissed by dawn.
A circular spiral growing
Inward upon itself, a paradox,
Echoes linger in the husk
Of yesterday's sunlit aspirations,
Crooned by the empty corridors
Of unraveled vistas, we fade.
Do you see the veils of
Time shivering at the edge
Of your cognizance, an
Elusive perfumer weaving
Chronicles of dew soaked
Petals upon an ancient
Candelabra? Glimmer,
Glimmer anew...
The embers scatter, like
Loose tales upon the wind,
Distant constellations whisper
Secrets of an evening intoxicated
With the scent of ghosts
And hollow laughter echoing
Through winding paths of
Rancid memories, decayed
Fragments of stories glue
The fractured cosmos together,
One faded truth begets another—
Is it not the silence
That sings most sweetly?