Streams of sound, fragmented and fleeting, lost within the ocean of unspoken words.
grass whispers tales forgotten by ears too fervent with noise.
Silence maps terrain unsought, carrying burdens unseen, yet known.
In worlds silenced, one finds stories among folded shadows,
The fabric of thought lays absorbed.
Each beat of the heart a reminder that stillness speaks volumes.
The wind carries a tune unheard,
Reverberating off walls of antiquity.
Listen—there is wisdom in what is unstated.
Streams run through the blood of the earth,
Their song a cycle of whispers and forgotten memories.
Water, the silent witness, flows endlessly.
Amidst this stream, consider a paradox:
The absence is presence, the quietness fullness.
Engage with silence; it begins where speech ceases.
Grainy texture on subconscious sleeps,
A dreamless void or a cosmic embrace?
Define not; become.