In the quilt of thought,
The stitches whisper echoes—
A tapestry undone,
Yet whole in its disarray.
Ghosts of yesterday
Weave through the thrum of now,
A lullaby of futures
Half-remembered, half-dreamt.
Stars blink their ancient truths
Across the void fraught with noise,
In silence, it becomes clear
What was lost finds its way home.
Beneath the skin of perception,
A river flows, unbound and free,
Its currents pull at the shores
Of certainty, dissolving shores.
Whispered along the invisible
Threads of a spinning heart,
The sum of all parts
Understood without understanding.