Beneath the arcane sky,
The echoes softly murmur,
In corridors vast and empty.
Their notes, a curious ballet,
Twisting, turning
In the silent opus, breathing.
In the hushed chaos,
A whisper of stars align,
Hands once woven in fate's loom.
Pauses deliberate,
Anticipate, wane, and rise,
Balancing on a razor's edge.