In the lonesome embrace of shadows, a secret fluttered.
He hast not witnessed the remnants of time floating, slipping through invisible fingers as the ropes of history become frail and betrayed.
Wrap yourself in the cloak of night, for the wounds unspeakable, couched softly where light does not dare,
Ancient voices linger betwixt the stars; each dot a frozen cry.
Let these nebulas cradle thy yearning for the unwelcome stories. Shall the sandman guide thee upon halos that drift beside sound— Carry nervebetween— constant lifting the darkness to veil silhouettes they adore and despise.