In this stance, it distills existence into a single point. It does not sing, it does not take flight, it does not filter. It practices 'presence' in its purest form. As if it realizes that the world, with all its clamor and colors, is merely a gray expanse between two branches, and that all we truly possess is the ability to be 'here'—steadfast and contemplative—even as the branches wither beneath our feet.
It stands, and by its grace, the branch seems to tower high.
It falls silent, and its heartbeat becomes the rhythm of this silent universe. It remains at the heart of the path, watching the passage of time through the window of a moment that shall never repeat