Solitary spark,
Threaded through fate’s silent loom,
Veiled in silver dusk.

Held in fleeting dream,
Breath and hunger gild its chains,
Flesh, a borrowed home.

Gossamer unwinds,
Light unlaces night’s embrace,
Echoes drift like mist.

Nothing fades, but folds,
Rivers cradle their own gaze,
Waves return to sea.

Form, a fleeting name,
Time’s light touch reshapes and molds,
Yet I still remain.

This is how it is and how it has always been - Always ...