In the silence, where echoes dance
on the edge of unsaid, unsung,
a whisper slips between stars,
tracing shadows of ancient heartbeats.
Gravity wells of emotions, tightly wound,
unraveling in the dark weave of night.
The moon listens, a cold observer,
as dreams touch the untouchable.
Woven Silence — a tapestry of longing,
Fractal Sighs — echoes of the unspoken,
Skyward Whispers — to the stars by breath.
Reality slides, an unseen hand,
tracing invisible script in air.
Fingers dance, touching nothing,
yet everything listens.
Beneath the surface of stillness,
ripples of velvet thoughts
caress the fragile membrane of light,
where touch has never trod.