In the quietude of the mind, the echo's song becomes breath, sometimes ancient, sometimes ephemeral. Breathe deeply the unseen worlds as ink spills over this endless ocean of consciousness. Are we the waves or the shoreline, destined to meet but never merge?
Pause, scribble in the margins: Who listens to the river when it dreams of seas?
Dive DeeperWhat is reflection if not time looping back? A silver shard in the tide, a sunken ship of memories gliding just beneath the surface. Swim through layers of self, maybe the traveler is merely the reflection on the rippled glass.
Remember: Reflections are truths that never dared to speak their name aloud.
More SurfacesBeneath the surface, currents dance their secret waltz. Carrying whispers of truth draped coyly in shadows. What tales do the silent stones tell to the whispering stream? Each drop a word, every bend a verse in nature's ever-throbbing manuscript.
When did you last listen to the words unspoken?
Hear the Stones