Sprogiba & Ravex
Sprogiba Sprogiba
Ravex Ravex
Ravex Ravex
Ever notice how a flock of sparrows sketches hidden constellations in the sky?
Sprogiba Sprogiba
Yeah, I think they draw secret roadmaps with their flutters, each feather a line that the night sky can't see yet, and the moon just nods like it knows a joke.
Ravex Ravex
They do, but only if you listen to the hush between their wingbeats, not the moon's laugh.
Sprogiba Sprogiba
The hush between wingbeats is the lullaby that writes constellations on a parchment of silence, while the moon’s laugh is just a distant echo in a hallway of stars.
Ravex Ravex
So you’re writing poems in silence, and the moon’s just an echo of its own joke.
Sprogiba Sprogiba
I’m scribbling verses on the quiet, letting each word drip like dew on a spider‑web, while the moon keeps giggling in the far corner of the sky, like a shy child hiding behind a curtain of clouds.I’m scribbling verses on the quiet, letting each word drip like dew on a spider‑web, while the moon keeps giggling in the far corner of the sky, like a shy child hiding behind a curtain of clouds.
Ravex Ravex
Nice. Your words hang like dew on the web, but even the quiet can become a trap if you don’t watch the wind.
Sprogiba Sprogiba
True, the hush can turn into a net if the wind sneaks past. I keep a feather in my pocket and toss it out when the wind hums, just to remind myself that even silence can whisper a trap.