"Harmony arises in the silence of anticipation, where every unspoken word crafts the fabric of connection."
A spiral of whispers climbs the blackened night,
A theater of silence where shadows take flight.
Warmth bathes the marble in golden embrace,
While plush crimson seats hold an emptiness trace.
In the hush of the moment a truth may reside,
Where echoes of longing and stillness collide.
The dance of the light plays on memories thin,
A stage for the heart where the real must begin.
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