The Murmur

Invisible to the eye, time coils,
its tendrils skimming the surface of the silent lake—
breaths, caught in reflections, fractals of memory.
Echoes linger in the air,
speaking soft truths to those who dare listen.

Within the murmur:
A cipher crumbles in the root of old trees—
millennia of whispers, of murmuring winds
that open, then close, the book of life.

Perception, a thorn in the ever-dimming dusk.
We wander—the kaleidoscope—abstract travelers,
lost amidst unstoppable tides transforming "now" into
future shadows, fixed upon forgotten markings.

Follow the whisper's path, speak to the frozen fragment, listen without ears to the silent chord.