"In the quiet hush of the evergreen oracle, an echo of the maroon tide, we find solace."
When the wind orchestrates leaves, they speak syllables unbeknownst to time dusted memories. To hear the language of trunks peering skyward, lean closer...
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Ring patterns shimmer whispers, frozen rain translates.
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Unwoven roots overlap truths, pale bark absorbs shade.
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Autumn regrets draped over held sorrow, hiding spring's opalescence.
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Shivering whisper connects dew, embarks unnoticed infinity.
Hold your breath amongst abscised dreams, receive the sepia echoes "etched within"... rendezvous with the inexplicable nurture, beneath the maroon tide’s undulating font.