"What shadows do whispers cast?"
Above the labyrinthine echoes of the canopy, where light hardly weaves, thoughts unfurl like fractals, reflections spiraling within reflections.
Here in the upper echelons of arboreal wisdom, silence hums a philosophy known only to the murmuring leaves. In their rustling dialogues, secrets of the forest world linger in transient revelations.
The tree-tops ask not of answers, but questions that unfold like petals: What constellations do your dreams mirror in this endless night?
The mind becomes the forest, every thought a leaf, caught in a gentle sway of meaning. Identity trails behind, a shadow in the dappled light.