The journey is whispered in the winds, a soft song of the trees as they cradle fleeting echoes of forgotten dreams. Beneath the tendrils of wandering vines and through the mist-draped glades, we wander seekers—breath mingling with leaf and air, tracing forgotten paths in the tapestry of wilderness.
Quiet murmurs sway
in the tendrils of mist
weaving tales unsaid.
The heart speaks softly
with words too tender
for the day’s pursuit.
Listen now, to leaves
cradling lullabies
of a world unseen.
What does the earth remember in its womb of silent stones? What songs drip from stars hung behind closed eyes? The lull you feel beneath your feet is the pulse of the ancient, a rhythm whispered in the dance of the unseen, beckoning you home.
Find solace | Listen within