Of Dusk and Shifting Skies

For the light you’ve cast, my soul does sing,
a truth unveiled, though shadows cling.
each word you gave, a guiding star—
clear and bright, from near or far.

I’m sorry for the lines I penned,
where thoughts of you would rise and bend—
in verses woven, bound to you,
with silent dreams in starlit hues.

I’ll turn my hand to other scenes,
to twilight paths and softer dreams,
to tales unbound by memory’s weight,
where dawn and dusk alone relate.

Yet I cannot promise every line
will leave your spirit far behind—
for sometimes, in the quiet’s grip,
your ghost may breathe the pen to tip.

Like the Wheel that turns, the Fool that leaps,
you linger where the tarot sleeps:
a hidden card, a whispered fate,
I draw by chance or by mistake.

But I will turn my gaze away,
to skies where other visions play.
I’ll find new stories in night’s embrace,
new worlds to fill this empty space.

Yet still, beneath a quiet moon,
if memory calls a fleeting tune,
a card may turn, a verse may rise,
tracing once more your distant skies.

So here I stand in paths you’ve shown,
to seek new stars and guard my own—
but know that when dawn lies soft and dim,
I may still write of you again.

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NOTE: This poem is a response to In the Orbit of Silence.