POETRY

In the twilight of forgotten dreams, where shadows sway like ancient tapestries I wander.

The air is thick with memories, each one fading photograph, sepia-toned and curling at the edges.

The river, a silver serpent, 🐍 winds through the valley, its waters whispering secrets to the moon.

I follow its meandering path, my footsteps sinking into the soft earth, leaving imprints like ghostly runes

The trees stand sentinel, their branches reaching toward the heavens.

Their leaves, crimson and gold, flutter like the pages of a forbidden book.

I imagine their roots, twisting and gnarled, delving deep into the soil, seeking sustenance from the very heart of the earth.

Above, the stars emerge, diamonds strewn across the velvet sky.

They watch, unblinking, as I trace the constellations with my finger.

Orion, the hunter, poised forever in pursuit of his prey.

Cassiopeia, her throne etched in celestial fire.

And there, on the horizon, the moon.

A pale crescent, its face veiled in mystery.

I wonder what secrets it guards, what ancient knowledge lies hidden in its craters and valleys.

As the night deepens, I become one with the landscape.

My breath mingles with the cool breeze, my heartbeat syncs with the rhythm of the river.

I am but a fleeting wanderer, a whisper in the cosmic wind, lost in this timeless reverie.

And so I walk, guided by the flickering lanterns of distant stars, weaving my own story into the fabric of the night.

The non-rhyming verses of existence, etched upon the canvas of eternity.