Pondering Palm
The desert's breath curls around time's gentle wrist,
etching echoes of forgotten stars
upon grains of luna essence.
There, a stoic palm sways,
whispers woven on the winds,
rehearsing tunes of cosmic travelers.
Only silence can teach the palm
to weep for the oceans it never knew,
to cradle the sun's farewell
within its leafy embrace.
Every night, a postcard arrives
from the sixth star, beyond the veil
of this naked wanderlust.
A message written in the eloquence
of stellar comets passing, a brush
against infinity's canvas, glowing
with the ink of dark matter dreams.
Wander to Stellar Sands or reflect upon the Mirage Tales, where time bends and recedes.