Beneath the canopy of the night sky, where stars whisper symphonies of forgotten lore,
silhouettes dance in the rain, cast by light that the eyes cannot see,
a conductor with no baton leads an orchestra of shadows and echoes,
the unseen strings vibrate, the melody is an electric pulse in the cosmos.
"To hear what cannot be heard is the true art," murmurs the ancients,
in notes unplayed but felt, in rhythms that transcend the physical,
a kaleidoscope of wavelengths painting the dark canvas with fervor.
Embrace the sound of what lies beyond, feel the texture of invisibility,
and let the orchestrations unfold in your heart, behind the silhouettes,
you are the symphony, the fervent whisper of the universe's clandestine concerto.