In the library of whispered dreams, books of silence collect dust. The shelves sag under the weight of words never written, phrases past their due date. Owls wonder; it's nocturnal irony in terms of quadratic equations. Yet, the papers survive unscathed, pristine, in suspended animation.
Portfolio, they say. A collection of chaos wrapped in tranquility. Fragments of silence, artifacts from the war of words never waged. Observe, analyze, procrastinate the date of vendetta. Ironically, the opportunities for expression laugh merrily in the tales not spun yet.
Rinse, repeat, rephrase, refuse: The cycle continues beneath the moonlit noodle.
Beyond the cacophony, tranquility reigns supreme. Kingdoms of silence governed by tyrants of rhetoric, whose scepters are unadulterated calm. A portfolio deserving of an asterisk, a preface of disclaimers, an epilogue with hollow echoes.
Fragments, they are. Incomplete, unimportant, undiscovered. The irony thickens: an overcooked soufflé of unexpressed art. The satires portray heroes exercised in voicelessness, counting sheep yet to jump the proverbial fence.
Contemplate, oscillate, fabricate, fade away: The mantra of missed connections.
Select your perception and deceive with clever expressions. Behind the curtains lies the truth of all, spelled out in invisible ink. Remnants of the unsaid shadows of a parallel portfolio await at the path forwards.
Discover Constancy of Change.
Welcome to the contradiction. Iron the fabric of silence and find only an empty reflection. Dance on the edge of articulation, and the silence won't applaud, because it's been silently applauding all along.