The light that dies still clings to golden air,
A whispered memory, beyond compare.
The horizon burns with amber, soft and deep,
While secrets that the waking world must keep
Begin to rise.
For on that edge where day must kiss its end,
The silver crescent starts its slow ascent.
It is a sliver promise, thin and bright,
To pierce the remnants of the fading light.
And then, the stars—they do not wait for dark,
But break the blue with their celestial mark.
A canopy of wonder, clear and vast,
Where two impossible beauties meet and last.
It is a moment born for lovers' eyes,
Where fire and eternity collide in skies.
A golden farewell, and a cosmic start,
The sacred silence where we gave our heart.