Beneath the enigma of yawning branches, where whispers cradle the breaths of ancient woods, the trees sing. Songs unheard by mortal ears—carved upon the bark with time as chisel, leaving stories in the grooves.
Follow the murmurs to where reality and shadow entwine. Seek the hidden pathways beneath the canopy, where light dares not tread.
Listen—not with ears, but with the heart's depth— for the symphonies played in silence speak louder than thunder. “In the absence of sound…” one might say, “…the resonance of whispers lives eternal.”