Silent echoes of bark, gazing upon starry entanglements, each bond a survey of longing. Shadows dance, muted by whispers.
The heart of a seed holds a universe, a clock ticking beyond measure, unwritten yet clear.
O, to be lost in the hush of rustling leaves; a cicada's song turns perplexed memories into shimmering dreams.
Perhaps they're just echoes searching for the light, wandering through shadows cast by their reflections.
Follow the trails where silence resides and laughter sleeps deeply.