Some days, the world is a cacophony,
a raucous choir of insatiable voices,
advertising weaving through civilization\'s
tightly woven fabric, shouting itself hoarse,
its braying merging with the confusion
of spiritual peddlers on crowded streets,
each chant a different tongue battling
for supremacy in a crowded Babel.
This noise, relentless and unforgiving,
makes us deaf to the whispers of the sacred,
the gentle murmurs of transcendent truth,
like trying to hear a bird\'s delicate song
within the frenzy of a bustling metropolis.
So we are compelled to seek refuge,
a quiet sanctum, a grove of thought,
where the air is saturated with silence.
There, isolated from the din of commerce
and the clashing symbols of belief systems,
we find a communion with the ineffable,
an unspoken understanding in the stillness.
Here, words fade like footprints in sand,
leaving us with the pure resonance of
existence, the subtle symphony of being,
finally able to hear the Divine whisper.