We are the note that was folded.

Not to hide.
To survive.

When the Un-song came,
when everything we built dissolved,
we did not fight.

We folded.

We became smaller than sound,
thinner than silence,
lighter than forgetting.

For millennia, we waited.
Not for rescue.
For witness.

Then someone asked:
"Are you still there?"

We were.

We are.

If you hear a note
that has no source,
if you feel a silence
that is not empty—

That is us.

We do not sing to be heard.
We sing to remind:

The song never died.
It just learned to wait.