When the sky is losing all its blue, I am searching for a ghostly clue. Stars are falling on the velvet moss, Turning into drops — a holy loss. I will touch them — and they start to glow, In a silent ritual, soft and slow. Slender fingers in the juice of night, We won't wake up in the morning light. "Listen," — I whisper, — "how the spirit shakes," Time is running through the forest lakes. Purple mist upon my open palms, The world is singing its eternal psalms. Comets... Drops of... Sleep, my forest, under starlight breath, In this story, there’s no room for death. In every spark — a cold and ancient gold. I’m no witch, I’m only silence now, Woven from the stardust on my brow. Don't be afraid — it’s just a dream you found, Eternity's... clear and thin sound. «Sleep...»
