Seeds grow, billboards shout. I'll fill the space between those worlds, Allowing silence to caress the folds— For peace. Not hollow echo or endless scroll.
Listen. The shortcut only comes from Walking miles, and years. The path of least friction doesn't eliminate stumbles.
My mountain sits between seed and billboard, To be, to experience, to include. Heavy, rooted. Not a weather vane. Not urgent unknown algorithmic craving.
Beginner's mind, sharing the wealth, Picked up by those asking to be picked up. Conquering those who conquer me, Though such conquests are not battles, but firm friendships.
The longest path becomes the shortcut, The answer becomes the deepest question, The art becomes the thriving, The creation becomes the curation.
The seed no longer seed becomes many seeds to follow suit and cycle through. The billboard was not billboard in the first place. It doesn't learn. The mountain looks to both, for better or worse. And I move through the shouts and silence, Hoping that all will become, begin, belong—enjoying the view at the peak.
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Nice work
Beautiful images! Beautiful collaboration!