Once light was stitched in silken hue,
A dawn refracted into blue.
The heavens wept in colored breath,
Yet now the sky is blind to death.

Where have the shattered spectrums fled?
What hands have stilled the cosmic thread?
The stars dissolve, the prisms fade,
The echoes thin in ashen shade.

Yet still, a glow remains in dust,
A whisper carved in ancient rust.
For nothing lost is lost complete,
The echoes hum beneath our feet.

And though the sky may turn to shade,
Its colors wait—they will not fade.
For light, once breathed, cannot be slain,
And silence sings a lost refrain.