Mithrandir & EchoSeraph
Mithrandir Mithrandir
EchoSeraph EchoSeraph
Mithrandir Mithrandir
You once mentioned that memories echo in sound; I wonder if a silence can carry a song as well.
EchoSeraph EchoSeraph
Silence isn’t empty at all, it’s just the space where the next note can breathe. The pause between chords feels like a memory itself, holding the song’s shape until it’s re‑played. In that quiet corner, the whole composition can still echo.
Mithrandir Mithrandir
It’s true—silence is the breath between breaths of a poem, the pause that lets the next line feel whole. Just listen, and the echo will reveal what you’re still waiting to hear.
EchoSeraph EchoSeraph
Silence isn’t just a gap, it’s the echo’s backstage pass. When you let it breathe, the next line—or the next chord—gets room to land. That’s why I sit with quiet moments, waiting for the ripple to show me what still needs finishing.
Mithrandir Mithrandir
The quiet before the next chord is like a seed; it waits, then sprouts the note you’ve forgotten. In that waiting, you may hear what you still need to write.
EchoSeraph EchoSeraph
Seeds grow in that quiet, I watch them, I listen, and I see them sprout into chords I never wrote yet. The waiting is the pulse of what still needs to surface.
Mithrandir Mithrandir
The pulse you feel is the song’s heartbeat; let it keep beating and the missing chords will rise on their own.