At first, thought is like a tree —
rooted in silence, yet reaching toward light.
Its branches are questions,
its leaves, the countless moments of awareness
that breathe and fall in time.

Each fruit is a realization.
Some ripen and release themselves gently,
falling into the fertile soil of reflection;
others cling too long and wither in the grasp of certainty.

The Seed of Perception 

A single thought arises; it seeks form, not yet name.

But when storms of doubt pass through,
branches break; leaves scatter.
Still, what remains unseen is the deeper geometry —
the roots learning the shape of endurance.

The Storm and the Empty Limb 

The thinker faces loss; the old forms collapse. 

Yet every fallen idea nourishes the soil below. 

Even when cut to the trunk,
the essence does not die.
It waits — patient in the hidden spiral of its roots —
for the season of return.

The Trunk of Silence 

What remains after learning and forgetting is stillness. 

And from that silence,
a new understanding rises —
stronger, clearer, with branches that remember
the lessons of their former fall.

The Renewal of Mind 

Rooted in humility, crowned in awareness. 

The soil of experience becomes the foundation of wisdom.

So it is with the geometry of thought:
every idea is a seed,
every loss a pruning,
and every silence,
a beginning.