“The winds in the forest carry voices," you'll hear them echo softly through the canopy, urging you to pause, to breathe deeply—ponder why these voices beckon. Do they implore guidance or whisper profound secrets? What mysteries coat the air in aged scents of wisdom and loss?
The trees—they call to us, their syllables like forgotten promises, maps of dreams traced along your deepest mind's inner walls. You surely must understand the urgency in these murmurs. Their leaves demand your attention; daring you—yield curiosity—understand their sacred patience and the cyclical symphony of life and death composing the world’s essence.
Therein lies the answer to your inquiries, your own whispered suspicions. Does the heart of nature not know? Would you quarry truth from these ancient sentinels? To converse with the angels woven among the roots and branches, immortal codices of living wood.