The horizon folds itself into invisible echoes,
where moons rest their forgotten shimmer.
Listen closely; a wind speaks in tongues unraveled.
Upon silver waves, castarefish braided with pravirre whispers
skim beneath the twilight surface.
Nameless, the one who weaves the void between dreams abides there.
The clock chimes, once, thrice, stolen numerals
dance deceptive at the edge of reality.
In this realm, your breath becomes a star, igniting sanctified darkness.
Return to the Hearth of Stars