And somewhere, beneath the soil's sigh, a forgotten seed dreams of days unthreaded,
where dew collects stories not yet born,
weaving vines through the tapestry of untold yesterdays.
Fragments of petals speak in hushed tones,
"We were once green thoughts, floating in the minds of giants."
Curling stems, secrets of light—an alphabet only the stars understand.
The first page reads: "I wilt, therefore I am."