In the mirror, in the whispers,
the patterns shift as echoes quiver.
Sand within the hourglass,
time's fingers gently twist.
Patterns weaving, fading, glistening,
an endless dance, a spiral's embrace.
We move, we shift, we're woven tight.
Curves we follow, shadows rise,
beneath the stars in translucent skies.
In waves, in cascades, the patterns call,
soft and muted, strange and small.
Whispered dreams drift unlocked,
a rhythmic pulse that never stops.
Threads unspool in eternal night,
in twilight's hue, in silver light.
Patterns whisper, patterns hum,
weave their stories, until all is one.
Can you hear the dance? Can you feel the shift?
Patterns flow in harmony's rift.
To and fro, like tides they surge,
submerging daydreams, dark's gentle urge.
Reach for them, these patterns bright,
a cosmic ballet in the endless night.