Glimmers of language slip and dissolve
in rifts unforeseen. The chatter of stars
whispers secrets woven in time’s strands.
A parchment from the garden of shadows:
"When the night blooms, the answer hums."
Here, a voice echoes through cosmic halls:
"Speak to the silence, and you'll find your companion."
Everlasting joints of the celestial clock
gift only to the patient the knowledge of riddle and rhyme.