Crescendo of Lost Majors

In the orchard of forgotten notes, A symphony lingers, woven in the air's fabric. Rising, the cadence speaks of shadows, Where echoes dance upon the edge of twilight.

Silent harmonies, they sigh, cascading, Through labyrinthine whispers of centuries past. Each step, a note, a beat, a pulse, In the library of the cosmos, boundless and serene.

Untangle this: the night whispers your name, a melody unsung, entwined in starlight.