1. In twilight's grasp, where shadows cling, The air, thick with the scent of rain, Stirs memories like dust beneath phantom hooves, Ghostly riders drifting on the dim horizon's edge. A lone figure emerges, cloaked in night, Silhouette framed by the dying sun’s last breath, His heart a tempest, mirroring the darkening sky, Each beat a reminder of grief, of yearning, Where lost souls weave through the fabric of twilight. He rides, a vessel of sorrow, Haunted by tales of cowboys in the heavens, Bound to the skies, yearning for redemption, Their spirits herding cattle through unending night, As he seeks solace, the weight of regrets draping heavy. 2. Where are you headed, old friend? A voice breaks the stillness, echoing through shadows A spirit long departed, yet not forgotten; The rider turns, eyes reflecting a night of solitude, His voice raw, an unspent storm— I seek peace, but the past clings like a shadow. Together, they gallop …