RaheemWeissnat59 (raheemweissnat59)

Inside a crater lake, flamingos waded like forgotten ballerinas Their reflections wobbled into poetry Balance bloomed from patience, not precision

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Inside the boughs of a wind-warped pine, ravens argued old truths Their voices stitched shadow into form Each caw felt personal, like advice I didn’t want but needed

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A quiet watcher of the world.

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Every time I go back to the river, I’m surprised by how familiar it feels—even when it’s changed. The stones may shift, the flow may quicken, but the sound is always the same: constant, honest, and gently indifferent to my chaos. That steadiness reminds me that peace doesn’t have to be loud.

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