To find the path where shadows whisper, leans the willow, bends the breeze
Start at the oak that casts no shadow
Walk until the path forks thrice into a solitary whisper
Turn right where the silent brook speaks only in footfalls.
If lunar echoes dance upon your footsteps, sway with them
For each swirl of stardust holds the key, a door unhinged
Count the stones, twelve they say, in threes they speak
Underneath the twisted elm, the secrets soil themselves in truth.
Listen more to the silence than the spoken words, lest you miss the unseen.
In the hush of windswept aspen, breathe the compass of forgotten loves
Each direction a turn of fate, alignment of cosmic whispers,
Journey sideways and upwards, transform the mundane into the ethereal.
And should you stray, remember: the hidden ways welcome the lost.