The Maple Syzygy

In a realm where the red whispers of the maple beckon the twilight stars,
a convergence unfolds, silent yet profound.

What do the leaves know that we have forgotten? Speak. You are both sower and reaper.

The wind carries voices, echoes—of time, of thought, looping like a forgotten dream.
Have you listened closely as the dusk approaches?

Can you trace the alignment in your soul?
Somewhere in the autumn dew, the maples await an answer.