Soft light breaks on frozen streets, a silence golden, strangely sweet. Through drifting bells of winter’s breath, a harpsichord of stars is set. (Faint synth choir, angelic) Gloria… not as before, woven in wires, an endless score. The fugue awakens, notes take flight, candles reborn as shards of light. (Arps cascade, playful yet reverent) I walk through snow that hums with sound, echoes of heaven weave all around. A theme familiar, yet transformed, a hymn of Bach reborn, reformed. And as the circuits dream of grace, the child of light reveals His face. Illusions? No—revelations sung, Christmas morning, forever young. (Synth choir swells, luminous) Eternal voices, timeless art, from Bach’s own hand to the human heart.
