a dance with memories 

​​

Light fractures on thought. Motion devours silence.
Form becomes feeling, and feeling — a blade.

Order dissolves in the pulse, grain and shadow conspire.
Truth hums through chaos, its voice — neither kind nor cruel.

What’s real bleeds slow, a tremor beneath control.
Perfection shatters.
Meaning flickers, then disappears.

Only presence remains —
feral, lucid,
alive.