Moon Between the Pages

The moon breathes through unwritten pages,
luminous on a margin still virgin.
Dust shatters into sparks of breath,
and silence, like an alphabet, remains open.
Weaves memory and wind in thin threads,
tracing names that have never seen the light.
Every breath laughs among the faded lines,
like a sail brushing a paper boat.
The unwritten book keeps an untold beginning,
the moon pushes through the lines, slow and insistent.
Dust, memory, and wind weave a secret pattern,
that awaits only a reader to become time.