Voices of forgotten trees
intimate with the age-old currents
whisper of existence's fragile web.

A windblown secret: Time is no thread, but a vast tapestry
woven by hands unseen, each moment a spell in the loom.

Have you ever tasted the truth caught on the tongue of a breeze?
It lingers like distilled moonlight, sweet, fading, eternal.

Paths we never walked shimmer like whispers
buried beneath the autumn leaves of past choices.