Shadows fall on whispers,
from the edges of celestial ink,
defying the brittle tales of old.
Dusty windows reflect,
the remnants of starlit dreams,
reaching across hazy voids.
Silent constellations sigh,
their glimmering silhouettes tell stories,
soaked in bittersweet nostalgia.
Through the cracks, light spills,
flickering, a testament to forgotten,
yearning to pulse in the silence.