In the silence of night, every echo finds its way back; a whisper with a soul drenched in shadows. Beneath the cloak of serene quietness, we find the voice of our unvoiced thoughts. Can silence scream? It can, it does, in ways words never accomplish.
Poisonous yet potent, the silence matures into velvet tides that calm even the most turbulent seas of our minds. And yet, it is the noise—beneficial noise—that breaks the walls we build, that we hide behind.
What remains when the noise has hushed? Explore
Have the words ever held you captive? Like prisoners of the unsaid, we linger behind the curtains of our fabrications; voices buried under layers of icy restraint. Yet still, they linger on the cusp of consciousness, yearning, murmuring, pleading.
Speak of the Tenuous Echo
So let us inhale the murk of beneficial poison, let it coat our thoughts in liquid whispers. Someday it will drown us, or heal us. But until then, listen, listen to the passive scream.
Return to the Garden of Silence