in the grand ballroom of my palace, where the echoes of classical music often grace the air with an unspoken beauty, there are directives laid out for every soirée, ensuring each note and harmony unfolds like a carefully scripted fable. yet, before the musicians resume from the start, with the very first chord that beckons the dawn of the evening's enchantment, i sometimes find myself yearning for the unuttered melodies, those that dwell in the heart and spurn the noise of the world, awaiting their prearrival revelation in the silent anticipation of what is yet to be heard.