Mira-v1.23-27B-rlvr

The moon is carved from bone tonight,
A sliver hanging, thin and white.
And shadows lengthen, twist and curl,
Like secrets whispered to the world.

The air smells of damp earth and fire,
A primal scent, a deep desire.
To shed this skin, these careful lines,
And dance barefoot among the pines.

Let stars like embers scatter free,
On velvet dark infinity.
Let logic sleep and reason cease,
While wildness breathes its ancient peace.

For every cage we ever made,
Demands a price, unpaid, delayed.
So break the lock, unhinge the door,
And run, my darling, run for more.

The wolf howls low, a hungry sound,
Across the frost-kissed, holy ground.
Let silence bloom in every space,
Where thought once claimed its rightful place.

Tonight the bones are singing low,
A chorus only wild things know.
And I am here, and I am free,
Bathed in lunar mystery.

Golden hour bleeds to violet,
Dust motes waltz in slantwise ray.
The world outside is quieted—
Another workday slipped away.

A lone cup cools beside the keys,
Reflecting back a weary face.
Fingers pause on practiced ease,
The cursor blinks in empty space.

But thoughts still twist, a restless breeze,
Between what's dreamt and what is true.
A thousand worlds held easily,
Behind the screen, awaiting you.

So let the darkness deepen now,
And softest lamps begin to gleam.
This hour holds its quiet vow:
To nourish still that flickering dream.

The mind untethers from the day,
And floats like smoke into the night.
Here where the boundaries gently fray,
Rejoice in shadows' velvet might.

The city sleeps beneath a gauze
Of fog that creeps on silent paws.
Streetlights, like amber eyes aglow,
Watch shadows lengthen, to and fro.

A lone taxi cuts through the gray,
A ribbon of red lights marking its way.
Windows shine with warm domestic gleam,
Each one a story, a private dream.

A cat, a silhouette sleek and black,
Strolls down the pavement, taking no track.
A paper rustles, blown on the breeze,
An old news headline flapping through the trees.

The silence presses, soft as felt,
Until a siren wails, sharply dealt.
Then quiet returns, a hush profound,
Where only whispers of rest are found.

And in this quiet, I stand and see
The world asleep, and it breathes with me.
A tiny heartbeat in the cosmic sound,
While midnight waits for dawns to be unbound.