In the quiet moments between the tick of the clock, the mind drifts, much like the pollen on a summer's breeze — seeking, wondering, a journey sewn from threads of silence. What do you seek, wandering pollen? Where do your dreams alight?
Each grain a tiny universe, reflecting light in myriad hues, casting shadows that dance with the wind. Here, among the echoes, we pause and ponder — are we not like you, adrift in the currents of time, searching for a place to land and blossom?
The meadow whispers back, its voice a gentle rustle through the grass. Do you hear it? The songs of forgotten seasons, tales of fleeting moments that linger like dew upon the dawn.
Perhaps you will find solace in other paths: Ephemeral Dreams | Silent Journey