In untold yesterdays, where the sylvan symphonies untangle,
woven whispers of forgotten stars, casting shadows on
the dreamscape of restless thoughts. Spirals, oh spirals,
of time untethered, the echoes sink softly into the
oceanic abyss of all that was, and all that could have been.
The ancients spoke in color, vibrant tales of the wandering
light, tracing constellations in the marrow of serenades.
Beneath the boughs where truth and dusk entwine, they
cradle the symphony of sighs, a cosmic reverie.
Spheres of Silence
There were symphonies of spirals, hidden in the corridors of time,
a melody only the moon dares hum to the awakening sea,
a fable that lingers on the edges of twilight's embrace
like an echo of a breath held too long in reverie.
Listen closely, for in the sigh of the wind there lies
a story—a symphony unplayed, a fable unwritten.
Chronicles of the Unheard