Lullaby of the Dancing Shadows
Lullaby for the darkest corner of the room. Slow figures move on the strings of a black cello, whispering ancient tales, undefined shadows lost in sinister ambient mists, dull ivory keys yellowed by time, whispers and creaks without a face.
The tension envelops us, a heavy wait for Something cold to whisper a familiar sound in our ear, illuminated by a ray of light, but in the end, exhausted, we close our eyes serenely floating between dream and reality.
"Sleep, sleep, little flower.
You shall never see the Morning."