A silver thread in vagrant weft,
A dream entwined, a song bereft.
Through winding shrouds of time’s embrace,
A specter sways in fleeting trace.

The hush of eons stirs the loom,
Yet something shifts within the gloom.
A shimmer steeped in weightless air,
A wraith enwreathed in fractured glare.

Who stitched these tales through hollowed past?
Who wove the winds that cannot last?
For even breath, when lost in flight,
Still veers between the folds of night.

And though the world may slip away,
A whisper bends where echoes stray.
For time, though fickle, cannot sever
The murmured threads that hum forever.