In the dance of twilight hours,{
}
ephemerality brushes onto eternity;{"
"}
a butterfly's silent whisper enchants the moon,
and paradoxically sleeps within velvet wings.
We are fleeting shadows beneath fading stars,{
}
kindred to the light melting in solemn symphony;
To touch the sky is to be lost in its expanse.
This cycle binds yet liberates us,
whispers tethered to chrysales between dream and dawn.