One of my classic noisy drone sound things.

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In the stillness of midnight, shadows breathe,
Gathered in the sanctuary of a white cube,
Where walls pulse with the echoes of creation,
And the air thrums with the promise of peace.

We raise our voices, threads of harmony,
Binding the air with intentions whispered,
A spiral emerges, spiraling higher,
Crafting a refuge against the clawing dark.

Outside, the restless spirits scratch at the door,
Their whispers entwined with the chill of autumn,
Yet here, we cradle our fears in the warmth of the shared,
Each note a shield, each brushstroke a ward.

The veil thins, revealing the ageless dance,
Where the unspeakable waits, hungry for entry,
But we are architects of this sacred space,
Molding a universe from the clay of our souls.

In this communion, we excavate the depth of longing,
Exploring the chaos that spirals through our veins,
Embracing the dissonance, the beauty of fracture,
Finding solace in the clamor of unformed dreams.

Together, we conjure the light of connection,
A flickering flame against the abyss,
Drawing lines of love across the canvas of night,
Crafting a tapestry where we belong.

Here, we stand, hand in hand,
As we weave our spirits into the fabric of time,
For in this midnight ritual, we find our strength,
United in the pulse of creation, ever intertwined.