Upon the tapestry of the forgotten twilight,
silhouettes of fading melodies drift,
borne by the gentle sighs of sleeping stars.
Static lullabies, craving audience;
timbre of distant phantoms caressing solitude.
Is solitude not the purest of all unions?
When joined by only echoes undo their bindings—
garlands of vapour stretching across borrowed volumes.
Static chants of unknown horizons twain,
softly plead unto crooned sleep circles.
A journey for the unheard,
over the edge of other suns;
deliquescent light twinkling invisible shores.
Further resonate pathways,
sewn by stringed thoughts arrayed astray.