A stretch of grass sways gently,
its green tipped with sun's fading gold.
A single tree stands, still and ancient,
its shadow a silent map on the earth.

The wind is steady, but soft,
carrying nothing but its own rhythm.
It brushes past the quiet landscape,
as if careful not to wake the world.

Far beyond, the sky hums in amber,
a slow descent into calm.
No path lies carved, no footprints linger—
just space, wide and unspoken.

This is the place where sound dissolves,
where time feels thin and weightless,
where the horizon stretches like a breath
held between longing and peace.