Beneath the murmurs of a world unseen,
lies the echo of a singular breath.
It weaves through the fabric of existence,
a thread of silence, spun from the void.
In the spaces between stars, where time folds
upon itself like a forgotten dream,
the aroma of solitude lingers,
a perfume of distant worlds lost in reverie.
Listen: whispers carried on winds that
shun the light of day,
murmurs that slip beneath
the seams of reality.
The lone traveler finds solace
in the shadows of ancient trees,
their roots entangled with
secrets older than the sun.
Seek not the meaning in words unspoken,
for the void is both the question and
the answer,
a silent witness to the dance of
solitude.
Venture forth into the paths
less traveled:
Echoes of Silence
or
The Murmur.