NOCTURNAL

act i

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i

p h a n t o m

A whisper in the void, born from the fabric of shadows and the breath of forgotten winds. It is the echo of a lost dream, a silhouette of sorrow that dances on the edge of sight, vanishing as quickly as it appears. The phantom is the memory of a touch that never was, the sigh of a past that lingers in the soul's quiet corners. It drifts through the midnight hour, a wraith woven from longing and regret, haunting the spaces between heartbeats. Neither bound by time nor place, it is the elusive spirit of the night, forever fading yet never gone, a ghostly verse written in the language of silence.

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