Below the stars, entwined in roots,
lies a tale sewn with threads unseen.
In the caverns of silent moons,
the whispers of ancients breathe.
Shadows dance on memory's edge,
silhouetted by the spectral glow.
Forgotten echoes murmur softly,
a serenade to the space-bound trees.
Do you hear the songs of the soil,
the ancient hymns written in dew?
Each leaf a record of time’s passage,
a chronicle of roots sinking deep.