In reverie, the mundane reveals secrets. A whisper from yesterday alive in today's cause, thoughts woven like endless threads of fabric upon coarse spools, remnants waiting to be explored under memory's harrowed light.
Common chores occasionally unveil vistas painted with deep hues of contemplation—pots clanging, water spilling, all birthing rhythms that mirror the heart's unending pulses. Even a waiting train carries not destination but purpose-shaped thoughts.