In the hush between two heartbeats, where time folds like silk in a drawer,I drift—an echo of amber hours,a whisper stitched in the hem of before.
The past is a prism of half-lit halls, where shadows wear my childhood’s face. i walk through doors that never closed each step a spell, each sigh a trace.
A clock made of moth wings ticks in reverse, its hands dipped in honey and rust. I sip from the chalice of yesteryears, where dreams decay but never dust.
Yet forward—oh, the silver thread!It hums beneath my skin like fire. The future is a mask of stars, a riddle dressed in sapphire.
I see it, a garden of glass and flame, where thought becomes thunder, and souls uncoil, beings of light, to dance in the breath of wonder.
Between the then and the yet-to-be, I am the mirror, cracked but whole. A vessel of visions, a keeper of keys, the alchemist of soul.
So let me dream in paradox, where memory and myth entwine—for in the spell of what’s to come, i await those souls i can help to shine.
