Whispers of the quiet path

Beneath the sky of muted gray,
Where whispers drift and shadows play,
I walk the paths that bend and weave,
Through moments only hearts perceive.

The river hums a silver song,
A tune of right, a hint of wrong,
It carries dreams I cannot hold,
Yet in its current, I feel bold.

The mountains watch with ancient eyes,
Their peaks like questions to the skies,
And in their silence, I can hear
The pulse of something vast and near.

Each step I take, both slow and sure,
Becomes a story, soft and pure,
And though the world may rush and roam,
The quiet always leads me home.