The leaves murmur in cryptic rhymes,
weaving tales from centuries lost,
where time is but a wandering wraith,
and the forest breathes in forgotten tongues.
"Nestled between shadows and whispers,
lies the heart of harmony's echo.
Speak not in haste, but in reverence,
to the old songs of the woods."
To know the secrets, one must wander,
follow the paths less tread upon,
where the ancient oak holds counsel,
and the wind carries a melody
of times before time was itself.
Unspoken Tales
Fables of Old