Now And Then

The past lingers, a shadow cast by fading suns, etched in the lines of faces, the creak of wood, the whisper of forgotten rooms. It speaks in fragments, in the weight of what was said, and in the silence that followed. The future waits, a mist beyond the hill, shifting, uncertain, its breath warm with possibility. It carries the scent rain, a promise, a threat, a question. Between them, a fragile thread stretches, woven with moments that slip like water through fingers, each one a spark--- brief, binding, alive. Now is all that holds, a bridge between echoes and dreams, where time pauses, and we breathe.