In the quiet chambers of our hearts,
Where whispers dance with fleeting time,
A symphony of silent parts
Plays its gentle, endless rhyme.
Our bodies, vessels of the soul,
Carve stories on the sands of day,
With every breath, a tale retold,
In the dance of night and gray.
The skin, a canvas vast and wide,
Painted with the hues of life,
Each scar and line, a truth to hide,
In the tapestry of joy and strife.
Yet in this silent symphony,
Our spirits soar, untamed, and free,
Embracing all that we can be,
In the quiet dance of you and me.