The Whisper Among the Stars

In the purple velvet where the dream is wrapped,
the clock whispers low, a lost echo,
through invisible minutes, time gets swept away,
in the subtle whisper of a moment that has flown.
With eyes closed now, I hear the ancient song,
of time that crumbles its defined areas,
a dance of particles and pure silence,
escapes through fingers like rare waters.
The stars are listening, watchful and mute,
to the light murmur of a heart in flight,
a dream that measures itself by sighs,
among the folds of a glow only mine.
And in the stillness, the heart finds its place,
amidst the beats of a clock that fades,
a final echo, a desire revealed,
in the embrace of the dream, sweet and imprudent.