Silent Aperture

[Verse 1]
The gallery's breath, a high and hollow hum,
Just me and the Rothko, where hushed futures come.
Through a dusty archway, morning light begins to bleed,
A raw, unwritten narrative, planting its own seed.
Across the polished floor, a faint, metallic sheen,
Reflecting depths of what has always been.

[Chorus]
This silent chamber, a fierce and sudden plea,
Its layered pigment, reaching deep in me.
Each hue a fissure, where memory finds its way,
Unfurling truth from yesterday.

[Verse 2]
The guard's slow cadence, a distant, rhythmic tread,
Beneath a vaulted ceiling, words long left unsaid.
I trace the edges, a liminal, shifting space,
Where inherited histories leave their fragile trace.
From the worn window sill, a quiet, fading gleam,
A fragile, fleeting, almost waking dream.

[Bridge]
No scaffolding to hold this fragile, piercing view,
Just the raw foundations, shining cold and true.
Like forgotten blueprints, of what we couldn't keep,
A quiet grief in crimson, running raw and deep.

[Outro]
Through this weathered window, the true light streams.