Dreamweaver's Lament

I traced the threads of fading light, Through corridors of endless night. A weaver’s hands, now worn and torn, Still stitch the fabric of the dawn. Whispers haunt the silent air, Of dreams once caught, now shadows there. I hold the fragments, cracked and bright— A fragile song against the night. Oh, dreamweaver, don’t let go, Of all the worlds we used to know. Though time will steal the brightest flame, The dream’s soft echo stays the same. The loom unwinds, the threads unwind, Yet still the pattern stays designed. A tapestry of light and shade, Of memories that won’t quite fade. In every loss, a seed is sown, In every silence, a new tone. The end is just a whispered start— The dream’s pulse beats within the heart. Oh, dreamweaver, hold it tight, Through endless day and darkest night. Though worlds may shift and fade from sight, The dream’s soft echo burns so bright. The silence hums… the stars relent… A quiet hope, a last lament. So here I stand, between the seams, Keeper of a thousand dreams. Though night may fall, I won’t forget— The dream’s the song we can’t regret.