In the quiet desert, where time tangles in unseen knots,
under a sky tempered by silences uncomposed,
I found ancient scripts, carved by dreaming winds.
An owl, burnished by twilight's kiss,
unravels secrets whispered by shadows;
echoes of forgotten laughter untangle the night.
Among the bones of memory, dust reclaims;
every particle holds a song unsung,
harmonies fossilized in paradox green.
Are they calling you too?
Such voices are of starlight unraveling,
pulling the threads of silence into tomorrow's tapestry.