A memory washes in, not like a tide, but as the gentle murmurs of a brook.
Curiosity, or was it desire?
The enigma of echoes calls softly beneath faceless constellations.
Pale moonlight kisses the water's surface,
lighting up secrets softly held in darkness,
an embrace as tender as the reach of a dreamer’s sigh.
Say my name like a shadow upon the embrace of eternity.
No slumber shall free you from the longing
weaving patterns like silk-laden winters.
Look into the unknown eyes of those ancient streams,
let silence respond to the whispers, echoing a thousand yesterdays.