In the quiet hum of twilight dreams,
where shadows breathe and colors weep,
I wander through the corridors of my mind,
tracing the echoes of forgotten songs.
Am I a flicker in the vast sea of stars,
or merely a whisper lost in the void?
The stars respond with ancient silence,
unraveling constellations of my solitude.
Footsteps echo on paths not taken,
leaves murmuring tales of yesterdays.
Who speaks them? The dreamer asks,
yet finds answers in the misty sighs.
Here lies the canvas of inner light;
a tapestry woven from the strands of night.
I reach, I stretch, and in the grasp of dawn,
become part of the formless call of the unknown.