In the cradle of forgotten realms,
where earth meets the sky in a reverent hush.
Wings borne on unseen currents,
Their whispers echoes that time forgot,
Etched in dew's lament on morning grass.
The sky-woven roots beckon:
Among Weeping Willows, the tales bloom,
Above Yet Below, the solace lies in the twilight cloaked in dreams,
Echoes of the Ancient Pines, in quiet reverie, their wisdom whispers.
The whispers weave through cosmic silences,
Setting free the tales centuries cradled,
In a world painted by roots and wings.