The seed whispers to the soil, yearning for the sun's gentle embrace.
The cycle repeats, echoes of echoes, into infinity's tender grasp.
Lamentation for the forgotten past dances with anticipation of tomorrows undone.
Circular geometry in a world of angles—where is the straight path?
You are, and in your being, everything unfolds. You become the paradox.
Water flows through the cracks of identity, smooth and relentless in its pursuit.