We are only woven as strong
       as the silk that binds us.

It may fray,
            it may discolour,
    but never will it break.

For it has a beauty that
            will still hold beauty,
    will be cleansed of any impurity.

We collect our weaves of silken humility,
                  for our humanity is soft and pliable.

It may fray, be discoloured,
            but It will always be strong.
Humanity is beauty beneath the dirt.

Upon the stars will my voice
be echoed upon, they stand
solitary in there meanings.

I'll stare as long as it takes for
this light to reach me, but the
past fades slowly in my vision.

I cant move on as the echo is still
fresh, when will it bleach from my
fear, never close to my reach.

My star died so long ago its light
gently fading. But this moment
reached and now I'm just discoloured.

*"Within my perception, taking time
to dilute from my beginning to my finite end.