Silent Paths

Sometimes, it feels like stepping into a dream, fog wrapping around my ankles, the ground whispering secrets I've long forgotten.

There's solace in silence, an unspoken understanding found only on lonely paths. Each step echoes in the void, reverberating with fleeting thoughts.

I wonder where these paths lead, or perhaps the question is more where they have come from. Reality blurs, melded with threadbare memories.

The gentle rustle of leaves reminds me of laughter. It echoes in the hollows of my mind; I cannot remember who laughed last.

Mornings often bring clarity, yet the paths weave shadows that pull at the corners of understanding. Reality is a transient state here.

I find fragments of conversations in the air, suspended like fog. Words half-formed, meaningful yet lost in the translation of thought.

As evening draws near, the horizon blurs, and I am left to ponder the significance of a single step on this silent journey.

Above all, these paths remind me of what I am, of what we all are—a collection of steps stitched upon a landscape of dreams and echoes.