Fear paints the path, a canvas stark,

Drowning out desires in the dark.

My pulse, a drum against the hush,

A restless echo I can't crush.

Lost in this void, I ask once more,

For how long will I wait before

Time grants a touch, a whispered word,

A thread to guide, a song unheard?

Will silence reign, a hollow king,

Or bloom a hope on time's soft wing?

For even shadows hold a trace

Of starlight's grace in this empty space.

So I'll hold firm, in a silent plea,

And wait for time to answer me.

For time, though deaf, may yet unfold

The secrets whispered, waiting to be told.