Echoes of the Clandestine
The Gothic Narrative
In the heart of the ancient forest, beneath the arching limbs of time-forgotten oaks, lies a pathway veiled in shadow. The trees, guardians of secrets untold, murmur in tongues long lost to humankind. Here, the air thickens with mysteries, and the ground breathes with the pulse of a world unseen.
Once, this path was walked by those who sought the whispers, the echoes of stories etched in bark and leaf. The language of trees, a symphony of rustles and creaks, told of journeys beyond the stars, where shadows dance with light in a cosmic waltz of endless longing.
Heartwood to heartwood,
mapping the silent echoes,
an encrypted dialogue:
the language of leaves,
the ink of mossy secrets.
A shroud of fog envelops the senses, a veil worn by the ethereal echoes as they creep through the mind's eye. Each step upon the twisted roots sends tremors through the soil, reverberations of forgotten dreams that weave into the soul's tapestry.