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Just before light, the stones held a kind of tenderness.  Not soft, but listening.  The temple beyond the veil of clouds did not rise.  It hovered.  Unfinished.  Waiting.

I moved as if underwater.  Not toward the temple, but into stillness.  Every gesture was slowed by reverence.  I exposed the frame not to capture—but to dwell within.

And in the darkroom, I remembered how the silence had touched me first.

 

stone under silence—
light waits on the breathless path
before it begins


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