HiveComb

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There it is, in the centre of time,
a dance of souls, a play of dreams,
gazes meet, laughter bursts out,
each chord a story, each gesture a flight.
And while the night is dressed in gold
the lights sparkle like flaming stars,
the music goes on, an eternal river,
in that hall, the soul is adorned.
There it is, everything is sublime,
an eternal instant, a divine memory,
in the middle of the room, life awakens,
dancing in the echoes of an endless time.