In forests of curtains, where whispers conspire
To weave symphonies unseen by the eye, a quiet choir
Dances among the shadows and light, a rapturous mist,
You walk between the lines, a derelict artist,
The trees speak in colors unheard by sign,
Shadows etch sonnets, lost rhymes entwined,
Yet you understand, for they hum near your soul,
A lullaby ancient, as time pays its toll.
A creaking door, half ajar, beckons with scent,
Of memories carved from whispers, wood and lament,
The air thick, a golden weave spun tight,
Beneath the cosmic ballet, beneath the night.
Take the path where echoes intone plaintive melodies
Follow the horizon, the twilight embers plead
Unseen doors open to realms both strange yet near,
And you, a pilgrim, cease to fear.
Your heart claims solitude; questions frame the dusk,
Each star a note in the score, a cosmic musk,
Now, listen, for the secret song bestows its grace,
Between the breaths of silence, find your place.
Where whispers of the forest kiss symphonies tight,
Discover the pivotal silence, the cradle of night.
A wandering thought, a secret symphony awaits,
Explore more paths wearing curious gates.