Through streets that forgot how to cry.
Through cities aching from empty noise.
I walk with the bansuri,
not to impress — but to heal.
Before me floats a single leaf:
Molooz — memory of the First Garden.
A whisper of when everything was still whole.
Each note speaks to the wind:
“Remember who you are.”
The leaf listens.
The world listens.
Healing begins —
not through noise,
but through Presence.
We reclaim cities not with campaigns,
but with a sound that remembers.
