Amidst the tangle of roots and secrets, the forgotten trees murmur dreams spun from the silken threads of night. The air thick with echoes, the smell of earth cradles lost melodies, as if the soil remembers more than we ever knew.
Here, where the owls gather to sing lullabies in tongues drenched in moonlight, a path unfurls into silence. Each step upon the wet leaves a clash of transient worlds, for the forest remembers all that was and was never to be.
The ancient trunks arch their backs, each ring within a century of stories lost to time. And the whispers—soft, like a kiss of mist—speak of a language only understood by those who dare to listen with their souls.
Linger, if you dare, beneath the bowers of this cathedral of whispers, where the owls watch, and shadows dance, and the night’s breath weaves a tapestry of forgotten lullabies.
Venture deeper into the heart of the silence find where the echoes meet the stars: Roots of Heaven
Listen to the hum of eternity, a melody born before the dawn of man: Symphony of Shadows