In the stillness of the ticking clock,
Where silence stretches its weary arms,
The weight of hours lingers thick,
Wrapped in a blanket of unending calm.
Days unfold in a muted palette,
Colors dulled by the absence of thrill,
Minds wander through paths untrodden,
Seeking solace in forgotten dreams.
The heart beats with a languid rhythm,
Yearning for the storm of inspiration,
Yet finds itself adrift in the sea,
Of endless echoes and quiet contemplation.
Through the veil of monotonyâs haze,
A spark flickers in the shadowed corners,
Whispers of stories yet to be told,
In the vast wilderness of the imagination.