Where midnight weeps in velvet bars,
There dwelt a maid—ethereal, pale—
Her name was Time, her breath a veil.
She danced alone through ages vast,
Her footsteps stitched the future’s past,
Yet in her heart a longing grew—
For one whose touch could split the dew.
His name was Gold, a gleaming wraith,
With eyes like suns and lips of faith.
He came not soft, but bold and grand,
And took the Earth from Time’s own hand.
She loved him deep, beyond despair,
Though he would twist her strands of air,
He bent her hours, broke her tide,
And laughed while galaxies would slide.
She gave him all—her pulse, her breath,
Her cradle, crown, her birth and death.
He kissed her brow, then turned away,
To forge new dawns from yesterday.
Yet still she clung, though torn and worn,
Her body bent, her spirit shorn.
She fell into his arms once more,
A ghost upon the cosmic floor.
And Gold, magnificent and cruel,
Did shape the Earth like molten jewel—
A plaything in his gilded palm,
While Time lay still, bereft of calm.
So now the stars, they whisper low,
Of Time’s lament and Gold’s bright woe.
For love that burns beyond control
May scorch the sky—and damn the soul.
🌊📖✨🪶📚🌀🕊️🎙️👣
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