The Fading Harmony

Tones of the Temporal

Echoes cascading off forgotten cobblestones, now resonate dimly in the mind. Some marvel at the occasional note whispering through their consciousness. What is life if not reverberations echoed over mirrors of silence?

Timbre, the elusive colour of sound. Not any less a mystery than the reason we ponder meaning of timbre – yet it conforms willingly, tracing arcs in the air. Does theology dare an embrace with acoustic whispers?

Time fades much as timbres turn, woodwinds enacting tales unsaid between moments unknowingly idling – again, an elegy played out, alone in nature's orchestra...

Ripple Reflections