We are sibling shards of the sky's overflow, yet anchored with indistinct trust to this rough window womb.
Breath of the world—silent, audible, endless in fractured accumulation, windowsill edges host the brave of grip.
As we caress the evaporating edge of the scene—breathtaking epilogues tumble tenaciously into memory.
What, then, confides in our transient world bounded by glass? Perpetual tumble makes us scholars of the relinquished.
Glance beyond the luminous stretch
Beyond that lost horizon ache
Where stories in pause end starkly
Product of our luminescent fall
Where whispers echo follow pathways veiled in time.
Tales tommorrow will neglect
The earth wavers knowing its kin
Until all gather in descent
To glimpse static reveries caressed by fading light.