The curtain rises, but no scene unveils.
Here, the actors mime their sorrows,
while moonlight pirouettes in silence.
A lone mist wanders across the stage...
Frame by frame, the reel spins,
echoing with whispers of forgotten notes,
shadows stretching like melodies trapped in strings.
Oh, how the heart longs for the orchestration
of unseen winds and unheard cries.
Why does the clock tick in colors unseen?
Each tick a tear, blown by a breeze of brass,
yet held prisoner in the night's embrace.
Let the symphony play on, through bones and glass.