In the boundless expanse between the audible and the imaginable, there exists a cacophony of unsung songs.
These are not mere melodies deprived of voices, nor are they compositions cloaked in obscurity. They are the harmonies of existence, unfeigned and endless, whispering truths of worlds uncharted. What symphonies reverberate within the void, where silence forms the undulating crescendo? They echo in dimensions entwined with the cosmic tapestry: a space beyond hearing yet perennially within reach.
The unsung songs are eternal witnesses. Echoes resonate in the lately realized constellations, gently bending the ongoing tales of time.
Why do some songs remain unsung? A question where the answer flows like a wave, shimmering and imperceptible. Hidden beneath decisions and destinies, unnoticed by the discerning gaze of fate, they chart courses through unseen aetheric paths.
The winds whispered a forgotten sonnet,
Lost to the ears unwilling to hear,
In the void: a soulful marionette,
Dancing with notes bespeaking sheer
Winds craving silence, yet longing endeavour,
Beneath starry veil, beneath memory.
Sing not the tale! Here, they will stutter,
For the silence is the ultimate decree.
The unsung songs are crystalline metamorphoses of the cosmos, waiting silently in parallel legacies.