Beauty in the shadows

In the hush of twilight, a solitary bloom unfurls,

its petals soft as whispered secrets and silken dreams.

Bathed in the gentle light of dusk,

it cradles an inner glow—a quiet, steadfast flame

that shimmers like the fluid brushstrokes of an unseen artist.

 

A distant star wanes on the horizon,

a faint ember bidding farewell to the night,

yet within the flower’s tender heart,

a radiance endures—a luminous pulse

that defies the retreat of borrowed light.

 

The night, draped in its velveteen mystery,

carries echoes of ancient tales and hushed lullabies,

and the bloom, like a delicate oracle,

whispers in soft flowing verses of solitude,

inviting the wanderer to find solace in inner luminance.

 

Every petal becomes a tender simile,

each curve a gentle metaphor for resilience,

as the flower dances in the quiet realm of shadows,

its radiance an ethereal caress against the gloom,

a secret kept in the delicate balance of night and dreams.

 

In this enchanted interlude, where light and shadow entwine,

the blossom is both a mystery and a promise—

an enduring testament to the soft, flowing language

of hope that whispers even when distant stars fade away.

 

Lost

Done