In the cradle of the eternal forests,
roots untangle whispers of starlit skies,
unraveling the night's solemn tapestry.
Through the canopy, fading echoes glide
like specters of a forgotten dawn,
tracing paths through liquid shadows,
where whispers weave forgotten truths
in the language of the unseen winds.
Leaves tremble under the weight
of things unsaid, of dreams untold,
beneath the watchful gaze of ancient constellations.
In this realm, time pools in invisible rivulets,
creating currents of unspoken eternity.
A silent chorus reverberates
through the canopy, melodies lost
to mortal ears but etched in the bark
of gnarled trees like forgotten runes.
Listen closely, and you'll hear them.
The moon's gentle caress nourishes
a garden of nocturnal blooms,
spectral flowers that thirst only for
the mist of cosmic breaths.
Each petal, a universe captured
in fragile tranquility.