Crimson walls breathe green,
a lone figure in still light,
white tree guards the hush.
Pathway of light,
shadows drift upon the red,
sacred silence.
A tree remembers,
standing where the wind once spoke,
red walls hold its roots.
Stairs of burning red,
stone walls cradle every step
shadows trace the curve.
Bare branches rising,
Beneath the glass sky they wait,
Winter stands upright.
Endless white corridors,
whispers echo,
steps dissolve, time curves into light.
Chairs climb to the sky,
tangled threads of weightless dreams,
falling into light.
Golden wood whispers,
warm light dances through the cabin,
forest breathes nearby.
Beneath the pine shade,
the house nestles in silence,
soul of the clearing.
A hidden refuge,
embraced by the gentle leaves,
breath falls still in peace.
Cold metal circle,
mist escapes in tiny drops,
nature whispers back.
Veil floats through dry winds,
as if sky forgot its skin,
they watch, still as stone.
Garments in the wind,
beneath clouds, two souls wander,
far from burning sand.
Beneath swelling clouds,
fabric rises with the wind,
everything shifts.
Chairs among the trees,
silence flows between the stones,
the mind takes root deep.
Chair in the river,
feet cold but standing still,
the wood follows flow.
Wooden throne stands firm
in the river’s rushing song,
who will take the seat?
Three chairs wait in light,
under tall and silent trees,
nothing is in haste.
Circle in the woods,
chairs whisper among the leaves,
and the filtered light.
In the forest shade
a cocoon of thread and air,
the clearing waits still.
Floating in the dusk,
two wooden cradles aglow,
the night listens in.
Twin seats in still air,
hover between earth and sky,
green waits quietly.
In the quiet woods,
a fragile moment rests still,
a fleeting instant.
A winding path flows,
stone and greenery unite,
serene harmony.
Cradle in the leaves,
a chair brushing open skies,
the wind comes to rest.
Chairs among the pines,
wood dreams of drifting with clouds,
and sits in the wind.
Curved paths touch the sky,
pillars bloom like quiet trees,
still water below.

Between the towers,
a moon with many windows,
city holds its breath.
Stillness in the shade,
a roof of leaves, floor of stone,
time forgets to move.

Between the towers,
a moon with many windows,
city holds its breath.
White hemisphere,
reflections dance on clear water,
green frames the stillness.
Stones placed with still hands,
a tree twists the quiet air,
the wind drifts slowly.
Turned towards the sky,
keeper of vast horizons,
the whisper of winds.
Beneath towering pines,
watches in peace,
winter’s quiet glow.
Incense drifting slow,
two chairs facing the old tree,
evening settles in.
Beneath azure skies,
the dome rises by the waves,
fresh breeze softly sings.
Three posts keep their watch,
at the summit by the sea,
silent and timeless.
Shadows on still waves,
two hearts whisper soft and low,
echo listens close.
Rooted in stillness,
stones and wind in soft embrace,
time drifts through the leaves.