In a world grown quiet, beneath moon's tender glance,
the star-spoked night whispers of cabbages and trance.
A lone, daring dreamer, in the depths of mystic fog, recalls,
the echoing lore of a vegetable, cradled by gentle brawls.
Layers wrapped in secrets, each leaf a tale untold,
in the language of petals, in greens, whispers bold.
"Oh, cabbage," the dreamer murmurs, "silent sage of the soil,"
"what wisdom lies folded in your undisturbed coil?"
A voice, perhaps, from roots entwined in earth's sleep,
answers in susurrus, from its moist cradle, deep:
"Life is but a dance, of layers and shade," it imparts,
"much like your journey, soon undertaken, by heart."