They wander the temple without purpose,
their robes whispering against stone.
No one seeks,
for nothing is missing.
Sunlight drifts through paper walls,
painting gold across their calm faces.
A bell rings once—
not to summon, but to remind.
In every echo,
a lifetime blooms and fades.
They smile, not at joy or sorrow,
but at the way both dissolve like smoke.
Here, in this quiet turning of breath and light,
the world is whole,
and the wanderers
are home.
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