As the sun sets, the spirit rises

Painted in silence, wrapped in prayers.

Painted in devotion, lit by centuries.

Where every reflection holds a thousand years of devotion.

Where silence sails and shadows speak

Where ancient walls whisper the names of seekers, and the river carries centuries of devotion.

What we see is only half; the rest is felt.

Every light behind a window hides a prayer, waiting to float.

In every flame, a prayer rises; in every shadow, a soul dissolves.

The river doesn't flow — it guides.

An emptiness so full, even the boat forgets to move.

Where every flame is a prayer, and every ripple is an answer.