In the forest of murmurs,
beneath the twilight's gentle embrace,
whispers weave through the leaves,
crafting stories in the tongues of the wind.
Do you hear the branch that grew yesterday,
sprouting in silence from a half-voiced tale?
Its leaves shimmer with secrets,
echoes of laughter from moments unknown.
Navigate the mossy paths of thought,
where every step stirs echoes of old dreams.
Listen closely, and the grass will tell you,
of the wanderers once lost in these woods.
And when the moon hangs low,
the stars’ whispers turn into songs,
a lullaby of branches and roots,
entwined in the dance of twilight spirits.