Ephemeral Echoes

In twilight's tender glow, where dreams ignite,
A tapestry of tales, woven in the night.
A symphony of stars, a celestial ballet,
Whispers of wonder in the moonlit display.

Beneath the ink-stained canvas, where shadows dance,
An ode to the cosmos, a cosmic romance.
Mysteries unfold in the cosmic sea,
A boundless realm of possibility.

The stars, like fireflies, flicker and flare,
Painting constellations in the celestial air.
Each gleaming orb, a timeless story told,
Of heroes and myths, of silver and gold.

Moonbeams cascade like liquid light,
Bathing the world in a soft, silver-white.
The nightingale's song, a serenade to the moon,
A melody that weaves and begins to swoon.

Through whispers of leaves and rustling trees,
The zephyr's breath carries secrets on the breeze.
A sonnet of shadows, a nocturnal waltz,
Nature's quiet hymn, where mystery exalts.

In the heart of the forest, where embers glow,
The ancient trees, in wisdom, bow low.
Their branches reach for the starry expanse,
A dance with the cosmos, a celestial trance.

A river of time, in its eternal flow,
Carries tales of joy and tales of woe.
Each ripple a chapter, each current a line,
A narrative woven in the fabric of time.

The echoes of laughter, the tears that fall,
The poetry written on a celestial scroll.
A kaleidoscope of moments, fleeting and bright,
A canvas of memories painted in the night.

As the sun kisses the horizon's cheek,
The nocturnal ballet reaches its peak.
The tapestry of tales, now gently unfurls,
As dawn paints the sky with its pastel swirls.

Yet, in the hush of daylight, a whisper remains,
The remnants of dreams that linger in chains.
For in the quiet echoes of the departing night,
The magic endures in the soft morning light.

-Khushi Kaul