solo

It feels like
a flickering light at dusk,
soft shadows on the pavement,
a beating heart,
pressing against the ribs.

It does not urge. It waits,
weaving through silence,
pulling the quiet close
until it dissolves into sound.

Sounds collide,
thoughts rush in,
sharp and breathless.
They tumble and vanish
before we can hold them.

No quiet explanation.
No myth to cling to.
Yet it breathes with us,
between each echo and the next sound.