The woods whisper secrets only the brave listen to.
Paths weaving through thoughts lost and found,
Where the soul's echo reverberates.
"Who am I?" murmured the leaves,
"A question persists like dew upon dawn."
In the fracture of silence,
A cardinal sings; notes fractured yet harmonious,
The dreamer's call through twilight eyes.
Do dreams own you, or do you roam dreamscapes unshackled?
Here lies a truth wrapped in fog and fable.
Unfold the path that cannot be seen until trod,
To destinations only imagined,
But hold more reality than waking breath.
In these woods, one is never lost—
Merely discovering oneself in slow motion.