Whispering Leaves
Among the silent pines and ancient oaks, the leaves possess a secret language—a dialect of rustles and sighs. What do they know that we do not? Perhaps the ugliest truths are whispered gently, unwilling to disrupt the harmony of the woodland choir.
The forest, a cradle of paradoxes, sings songs of life and death woven into one. A cacophony of whispers, unnoticed by those who tread upon its floor with unseeing eyes.
In truth, even the trees endure the burden of knowing—of the cycle that devours every branch and seed, returning all to the earth amidst whispers of gentle acceptance.
Echoes from Hidden WellsShattered Glances through the Veil