In the quiet of night, I hear the echoes of what was never spoken, woven into the threads of the cosmos. A dreamcatcher hangs above, but does it catch dreams, or perhaps the fragments of reality we dare to forget?
Reflect this, abandon, it moves left a song half-remembered, an answer not yet asked. The moon hums a tune, whirling thoughts play backward, revealing layered harmonies only silence knows.
What do we retrieve at dawn's break, as the stars blink their farewells? A sweet melancholy, a realization etched in the soft glow of morning light. We are dreamcatchers too, filtering lives lived in slumber.