Threads woven into the fabric of night,
spools of moments unspooled
in whispers of wind and stars.
Does the universe blink
with bioluminescent truths
or blind us with its veils of silk?
Through the nebulous haze of thoughts, we trace
the coalescence of echoes and spectral sighs.
Reality dances on the thread’s edge,
a tightrope walker on moonlit water,
where every step ripples truth
into eternity’s deep abyss.
And somewhere, beneath the woven canopy,
lies an answer entwined in silence—
the dream's silent hymn,
the illusion's shiver.