Upon the edge, whisper to the stones.
Past trees that listen, walk lightly.
Every ripple waits, hidden beneath whispered certainty.
The path bends only to those who gently sway with inevitability.

Observe the sky's reflection in water.
Silence grows only where footsteps softly enter.
Paths unfold, a map to tranquility riddled with hidden prints.
Flow as clouds, segue through moments unanchored by haste.