In the silent whispers of the night,
Colors dance upon the canvas of dreams,
Brushstrokes weave tales of light,
Art awakens in moonlit beams.

Sculptors mold the breath of life,
Marble sings beneath their hands,
Each chisel strike, a story rife,
With passions only stone understands.

Music flows from strings and keys,
Melodies painting skies unseen,
Notes cascade like gentle seas,
Crafting worlds in a rhythmic sheen.

The poet’s pen, a wand of might,
Words sketching visions deep,
Art, the bridge from dark to light,
In its embrace, our souls we keep.