The Stag of Midnight's Threshold

Above the glittering spires of the sleepless city, a noble stag suspends in velvet cosmic night, his antlers woven with delicate webs of time, adorned by crimson ornaments that catch the light.Clocks melt and drip like golden tears from unseen heights, their hands forever frozen near the stroke of twelve, while baubles drift in silent orbit, soft and bright, and champagne flutes hover, unspoken wishes to themselves.A ribbon of scarlet arcs across the dreaming sky, trailing sparks of farewell to the year now fading low, as the urban glow below pulses with restless sigh— a heartbeat waiting for the moment midnight lets go.He gazes forward, calm and ancient, eyes profound, guardian of transitions, silent herald of the new, where old hours dissolve in liquid gold upon the ground, and tomorrow’s promise glimmers in the dawn’s first hue. In this suspended breath between the was and soon-to-be, the stag holds vigil—eternal, serene, and free.