In whispers deep, where shadows weave,
A tapestry of night and dreams,
The heart reveals what eyes perceive,
In stillness found, in quiet seams.
Each note a breath, a gentle sigh,
Melancholy dances in the air,
With every memory floating by,
A reflection caught in tender stare.
The moon, a painter of soft light,
Drapes silver threads upon the ground,
An opus sung in the absence of fright,
Where secrets linger and hope is found.
In silence, echoes softly play,
The aching chords of longing hearts,
As twilight whispers come what may,
In every ending, beauty starts.
Through corridors where shadows fall,
And twilight's grace becomes our friend,
In every note, a silent call,
A journey stitched, where dreams transcend.
A melody that knows no bounds,
In stillness stirs the soul's delight,
Each pulse, a promise that resounds,
In nocturne's embrace, we find the light.
So let this night, with all its grief,
Be a canvas for the heart's lament,
In every tear, we find relief,
For every silence carries scent.
As dawn begins to touch the skies,
Embrace the whispers that ignite,
For in the stillness, hope still flies,
The outer world meets inner light.
Classical
Nocturne, Silence, Light, Melancholy, Opus, Reflection, Stillness