Beneath the full moon's gaze,
a tori waits in silence,
its crimson limbs stretched wide—
a bridge for no footsteps,
standing still as time flows past.
Moonlight weaves its soft threads,
draping the gate in whispers.
No voices stir the air,
only the songs of crickets
singing to the empty shrine.
Shadows pool at its feet,
a mirror of endless night.
The world breathes without man,
its quiet heart undisturbed—
a realm where presence is void.
Stars blink their ancient truths,
echoing tales none will hear.
The tori bows to them,
a lone sentinel of peace,
needing no witness for worth.
What was once built for faith
now serves the endless moment.
Moon, gate, and earth align,
their stillness a single chord,
resounding beyond all ends.
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