In the tapestry woven by hands unseen,
lies the whisper of stars that once sang,
testaments scrawled in the exquisite ink
of cosmic dreams—unraveled on the skirts of eternity.
Time, a fickle artisan, carves paths in shadow;
Hermit crabs inhabit old dreams, luminous in their shell,
until the tides of thought wash tide pools of memory:
here, fortunes, hidden truths, revealed.
Rustling in the dawn of a million yesterdays,
the silent cries of stone. The cries of stone.
What is forgotten among the celestial gears shall return,
a mirror with no reflection, a paradox whole.
Set adrift upon a sea of ink, words transform into ships,
carrying burdens of dreams defoubted, safe harbors built
on the alchemy of hope and the courage to weep.
Journey Through the Secret Paths
Beneath it all, beneath it all—
lies a truth, raw and relentless,
waiting to be unearthed
over the unsung poems of a million nights.