In the heart of the valley where moonlight weaves shadows soft and fleeting,
a sanctuary lay hidden—brushed by winds that spoke of ancient serenades.
Here solitude nurtures not loneliness, but a kindred spirit luminous in dusk's embrace.
The trees here stretch their gnarled arms, weary from time’s gentle marathon,
concealed beneath canopies of emerald whispers.
Do you hear their song, entwined in the babbling of the brook?
It licks your soul awake, a haunting lullaby in the fabric of solitude.
All wanderers sought their rest beneath roots intertwined like sleepy lovers,
letting whispers of solace cradle them into waking dreams.
Dreams unfamiliar, like old postcards sent from a forgotten place,
their corners bent, ink faded, but vivid still in the mind's eye.
Follow the path unseen where the crescent moss carpets the earth in gentle hues,
and discover the doorway draped in willows. The hidden dew drops there like tears of time,
begging you to step through the veil.
And remember, not all who walk here will return unchanged.
Some find themselves in fragments, scattered in sighs of twilight.
Others breathe entire libraries of gratitude, verse written in moonlit realms.
Visit the echoes | Secret Trees