The Silent Convergence
Reflection
In the quiet hall where shadows dance,
Rows of red-robed figures sit in trance.
Their faces, blank, yet souls aglow,
A symphony of silent flow.
The light from windows softly spills,
A river of hope, a stream of will.
Each desk, a vessel of thought,
A mind in motion, yet caught.
Are they prisoners of time's design,
Or guardians of a sacred line?
Their gaze, a mirror to the soul,
Reflecting truths we dare not hold.
In this stillness, a world unfolds,
A tapestry of minds that holds.
For in their silence, we find our voice,
A chorus of unity, a shared choice.
Oh viewer, see yourself in them,
A seeker of truth, a seeker of them.
For in their stillness, we find our path,
A journey of self, a journey of wrath.
The Silent Convergence, a timeless art,
A mirror to the soul, a mirror to the heart.