FRAMES BEHELD THE WHISPER:“How fares the visage, that lingers within the hush of amber light . . ?” 04. 𑣪
Broken hues and murmured gleams,
vignettes adrift upon no wind,
where recollection weaves through shadowed grace.
Each still a threnody, each motion a hymn
(the quiet pulse of sentiment preserved in breath).
To those who wander through imagery and verse,
extend thy missive with reverent care to
@slvauntbot,
for vocational profile needs, writing and art commissions.
that the echo of creation may once more take form. 𖤓
✶
EVERY VIGNETTE SPEAKS IN SILKEN SOLILOQUY, AN ORISON FOR ALL THAT EVER TREMBLED IN REMINISCENCE.
