In the undergrowth
whispers forgotten
by the kindling flame
of evening stars.
Echoes of songs sung
in reverse—the birds
mimic dreams lost in
the coil of tree and vine.
Hieroglyphs of dew on leaves,
tales embossed in carbon filigree,
timeless they pool like shadows brushing beside.
Palms sway in paradoxical winds,
ushering soundwaves
that fetch thoughts stranded
on forgotten shores of sky.
A future unfolds:
five-petaled mirrors
hand over mute prophecies—to
listen is to unearth gentleness.