I walk where echoes do not call,
Where wind and hill in hush do fall,
No voice, no crowd, no need to speak,
Just me, the earth, the mossy creek.

My face—no smile, no tear, no frown,
A still mask in a ghost-white town.
But peace... it hums within my chest,
Like songs unsung, like dreams at rest.

I crave no stage, no burning light,
Just starless skies and rain at night.
I do not chase the world’s loud fire,
But rest beneath its ash and wire.

The music plays—my hidden friend,
It speaks the words I never send.
And in its notes, my soul takes flight,
To forests soaked in silver light.

I do not know what name to give
This quiet way I choose to live.
Not joy, not grief, just something deep—
A gentle ache that dares not weep.

So let me fade into the green,
Where I am still, and still unseen.
Where I am whole in being less—
A lone heart's strange and soft success.