The sounds of a soul, gently healing

The sounds of a soul, gently healing

Grumbles of distant rain clouds echoing from the hills

The ticky tacky steps of a spider, scurrying across the dust.

Gleeful, haunting melodies of mynahs calling across the jungle canopy

Gurgles of a chubby rain drop slithering onto a welcoming pebble

The whisper of a lazy breeze stirring shy bamboo stems

 

The barely audible gasp of a frangipani blossom as it lands on the surface of water

The sigh of a leaf riding on the breeze, pausing, twisting, as it glides to the ground, guided by invisible fingers

The catch of air in a butterflys wings, as it alights on a leaf

The almost perceptible murmur of a hibiscus flower, rearranging its petals, as it turns to reach towards the sun.

 

The scream of a single, sweet teardrop, escaping, unsolicited.

 

 

Stop.

 

Still your breath.

 

Still your very being.

 

For these are the gentle sounds,

of a soul

quietly healing.

 

Frangipani blossom, drifting, casting its shadow on the tiles of the pool.

Frangipani blossom, drifting, casting its shadow on the tiles of the pool.

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