We dream of silence, pure and still,
A space where noise suspends its trill.
Yet in the void, a whisper still, hums,
For silence never ever truly comes.
In quietude, a heartbeat strums,
The pulse of life forever thrums.
Into such stillness, wily wind whistles will creep,
And drips of drops through cracks will seep.
The breaths we take, the sighs we weave,
The...
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