In the cosmic cathedral, where darkness reigns supreme,
A nebula whispers secrets, in silence cloaked.
The symphonies it knows, unfathomable, unheard,
Each star a note, each comet a refrain.
Beneath the velvet sky, the sheets lie blank,
Composed of silence, pruned by time's own hand.
Here, silence speaks, a language lost to men,
In Gothic echoes, where specters of sound dwell.
Shadows play among the stars, a pas de deux,
In the unseen orchestra of the void.
Crescendo and decrescendo, in the heart of the black,
Yet, only the silent pages of the staves remain.
Dare you to listen, where sound meets the void?
Discover the whispers at the edge of tomorrow:
Edge of Tomorrow |
Notes Unheard
Here in the Nebula's embrace, all is a dream,
A symphony not played, yet eternally sung.