In the hush between the clock and candle,
I left my name beneath the dust,
where old prayers bloom in violet silence
and every broken thing learns trust.
The night unfastened all its mirrors,
the stars bent low to hear me grieve,
and in the dark, some gentler language
stitched silver roots beneath my sleeve.
So keep this page where shadows guard it,
where sorrow glows but does not end—
for every soul that enters IndigoVeil
arrives a stranger, leaves a friend.