Interior landscapes unfolded—
a realm where echoes embody sound,
yet no voice claimed dominion here.
Beyond each frame, a unity beckoned,
woven in the interstice between light and shadow.
Silent film narratives flickered—that flicker was the dialogue.
"The delicate union of puppeteer and marionette," mused the shadow,
Its reverie punctuated by the graceless dance,
Crafted unity whispered an unseen truth;
No strings, yet bound—for what binds is not seen.
"Silent communication excels all spoke serenity," she confided,
In the dusk's eroded glow, allowing the speech without words
Each gesture sculpted their past-present-future
Melding in an embrace as frosty as tangible breaths over glass.
Links between frames, each a symbiotic silence—
Cinematic unity embraced amidst chaotic harmony,
Yet unity, the flickering pulse confessed,
Remains divergent, shattered then restored by time itself.
Reflections upon every tarnished mirror
The canvas of pretended echoes
An opera without notes sung beneath moonless rebellion;
Drama etched indelibly into the facade of pulsating glances.
Together, script and spell of muted devotion,
Forge present in absence, tell-tales of cinematic unity
Yet unravel with each clandestine flicker.