We drift upon a whisper, where the echo of starlight fades.
Each grain a universe, a sparkling wanderer,
colliding with the winds of time,
stitching the fabric of night,
a silent symphony in motion.
Listen closely, and hear the mermaid's lament sing.
In the heart of the gale,
these flecks dance, play, and revel
as youthful sprites of yore
embracing the touch of the sun.
A tapestry woven not of thread,
but of whispers and sighs,
resting on the breath of the ocean's tale.
The magic held in the mundane,
a golden fleeting dance across time's horizon.
Return to the shores of solitude,
where dreams and dust forever entwine.