The Memory Glade

In the language of trees, the wind speaks in whispers,
curling around the trunk of existence, layering bark upon memory.
Here lies the tree of thought, roots deep in introspection
and branches wide in the reach of understanding.

When leaves fall, they carry secrets locked in the sap,
messages encrypted in the rings of time.
What does the breeze say as you stand among the giants?
Can you decipher its ancient tongue?

Each step on the forest floor is a question,
each shadow cast a reflection of the self in growth.
Listen—listen to the trees and hear not what they say,
but what you've always known beneath the canopy of your mind.