In the garden of the mind, doubt takes root.
With whispers soft as twilight, it sows shadows on the path.
Each tick of the clock, a reminder of paths untaken.
Yet in silence, we find the beauty of what could have been.
The clockwork mind, relentless in its ticking,
yet pauses to ponder the seeds it has sown.
Each hour a reflection, each minute a memory,
and in the pause, the heart whispers its secrets.
Doubt, the silent gardener, nurturing thoughts unseen,
cultivating fears and dreams alike.
In stillness, we cultivate clarity,
as the clock unwinds our tangled truths.