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Thomas Foks
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There is a kind of peace only found in the fading of nature
When the green recedes, silence blooms. What’s left is fragile — but beautifully still.
There is a kind of peace only found in the fading of nature
When the green recedes, silence blooms. What’s left is fragile — but beautifully still.
# Latest news
When the forests grow silent, and humans finally hear themselves again
When the noise fades, we meet our own echoes among the trees. The silence isn’t empty
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Beneath the soil, seeds whisper about another day
about another dayIn the quiet dark, life hums beneath our forgetting.
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The language of rain on fragile glass
There are places that refuse to be mapped — not because they’re far
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The weight of light in endless fields
Ashes speak of warmth once shared. Destruction, too, has a strange tenderness.
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Listening to the earth between great storms
here’s wisdom in the quiet before the sky breaks open.
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The stars quietly watch as we tear down the ancient woods
hey have seen it all before. Our lights flicker, but theirs endure — indifferent, eternal.
Read more# Popular Posts
When the mountains breathe at first dawn
Every drop speaks of distance and return. Rain is the world remembering itself.
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Beneath the cities, the roots still speak softly
Even under steel, the old forest murmurs. The earth hasn’t stopped dreaming of green.
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The sea that quietly forgets our names
The waves erase without cruelty. To be forgotten by the sea is to return to something
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