Whispers cascade: mornings made of
infinite grains dancing, particles seek
solitude among shadows forelost.
The alchemist bends humbly
over stillness, regards the golden
element of cosmic dissolving grains.
Listen closely to the dew in
the diurnal folds of time. There, in
the curl of universe's breathe, lies memory.
The stars murmur, secrets in
the embedded crust of elements —
faint signals cascading between rusted whisper and wake.
Each individual range interlocked
in the těchnē' captured under
the tensile virtue of haven.
Through the myriad
formed cease: elemental ghosts
linger as the expected tones.
For every grain, a truth:
silence distilled into
ineffable continuity of motion.