Streams of Consciousness

How many songs does the stream remember, echoing off the rocks, never the same melody?

In quiet moments, observe the ripples; they are the universe's whispers trying to unfold your forgotten dreams.

The echoes of your laughter are not lost; they swim beneath the surface, tangled with forgotten hopes.

Balance is not stillness, but a dance—fingers of water tracing stories unknown to the land.

Time flows like a languid song, never linear, its symphony spirals through realms unseen.