The subtle hum of consciousness weaves an intricate fabric, invisible and profound.
Amidst the noise, the silence speaks. A language more ancient than words, yet more present than breath.
Each moment a thread, each thought a knot in the tapestry of being and un-being.
Here lies the paradox: in the infinite stillness, everything is possible, and nothing remains.
Consider the silence as a canvas, as a lighthouse in the fog of distractions.
When does the echo find its voice?
Is the void a waiting womb or a graveyard?
Let the silence guide you; it is the compass of the cosmos.