In the realm of the silent, the quiet screams rise like mist at dawn. They linger, palpable yet unattainable, echoing in the cloistered corridors of our minds. These silent screams constitute the void of expression, a tapestry woven of threads that never fell from our lips.
The Enigma of the Unspeaking
Consider their value: a whispered secret, destined never to reach the light. Construct within you a fortress of solitude where these echoes reside, each a ghost marking its territory upon your forgotten shores. Understand this: each scream is an articulation of fears, desires, or truths – an ode to a silence carefully curated.
Such is the paradox: abolition of voice releases sounds less tangible yet more impactful. Recognizing these is an exercise in introspection, where one must engage with the silhouette of their presence. It is neither a task nor a journey, but a perpetual state of awareness, an unending cosmic dance between the spoken and the imagined.
In observing these silent eruptions, we take notes of constellations only one can dream of, yet others lie beneath the surface of consciousness. They beckon like the lighthouse guiding lost ships with its steady pulse of light, signaling both shelter and warning.