Sometimes, a whisper crossed the cosmos,
where shadows touch the edge of twilight.
"Do we ever forget, upon waking from this dream?"
A voice echoed, fading into the spectrum,
weaving through the spectral loom of oblivion.
The memory of rainbows,
a fleeting bridge across fading light.
Echoes of laughter lost to the mist,
where color becomes silence.
Haze in the Glass
|
Ephemeral Glow
|
Surface of Stars