Echoes in the Quiet

A man stands at the edge of a silent park, watching the wind carry leaves like forgotten prayers. No one waves back at the crows. He wonders if the trees know they’re growing. The sky is a pale witness— indifferent to the ache below. He asks questions without shape, the kind that drip between hours and vanish. Once, he thought love might be the answer. Or work. Or children. Or a dog. But each fills a cup only halfway, and the thirst returns at midnight. Still, he walks— each step a whisper to the stars, a soft defiance against the vast, unanswered dark.l