In the hush of whispered clocks,
skeletal hands stretch across
the canvas of some forgotten sleep,
unraveling tufts of time's gentle weave.
Shadows remember
faces never seen—
an embrace of mist,
dew-kissed morning on fading echoes.
Glance into the abyss,
voices linger like
ripples on eternity’s pond,
unanswered questions in the silver dusk.
Beneath the bridge of moments-sought,
there's solace in the silent breath
of horizon unchained,
forever dancing on the edge of the bygone.