The Phoenix Quill: Words Born of Fire, Inked in Truth

Invisible dancers in the vast unseen,
Waves of motion,
vibrant and keen.
A whisper,
a crash,
a note so pure,
Ripples of music that endlessly endure.

They weave through the air,
a gentle glide,
Riding the ether where echoes reside.
A piano’s chord,
a violin’s cry,
The hum of the earth,
the winds that sigh.

They’re born of vibration, life’s gentle breath,
Breaking the silence, defying death.
A universal language, unbound by time,
Carried on whispers,
or thunder’s climb.

From the pulse of a drum to a whispered word,
Sound waves unite where hearts are stirred.
A tapestry woven of tone and beat,
An unseen bond where souls meet.

They dance in patterns, complex and true,
Invisible art for me and you.
The waves remind,
in their gentle play,
That sound is a miracle, every day.