When do we sever the tethered dusk, And drift through echoes hushed? When do the fissures cradle light, In veils of absence, blurred from sight? When do the remnants, cold and thin, Become the prism held within? When do the fractures birth the song, That’s whispered where the lost belong? When do we sip the ghostly flame, That scorches without name or claim? When do the silence and the scream Converge beyond the fractured dream? When do the void and pulse entwine, Disentangling the mortal line? When do we dwell beyond the skin— To feel the dark alive within?