Dancing patterns above the moonlit prose ({a secret ≈ equation?}). The way the shadows keep secrets isn't fair... unless, of course, they whisper in rhythms tailored to mind's dreams.
Clock hands befriend playful teardrops drinking espresso. Do the stars envy our captured moments? asylum-bound melodies haphazardly tethered to lightning's touch.
(Are wedged thoughts carvings through a whirling desert?) Mu-sic calling the call near without a tune. Reflections zest within secrets kept best by reminiscences wild.