The traveler moves, witnessing texts etched in the sinew and sinewy bark— encrypted tales only revealed to those who pause beneath the canopy's gaze. Grassroots vibrations signal spectral harmonies; leaves conversely converse.
Trunk-spine glyphs recount epochs of shadowy pasts, metamorphosis, and incandescent dot-dash foliage symphonies. Listen and become lost, wandering voyager. Time is but an elm's dreaming cloud.
Along winding roots, follow the inked wisdom of ever-tangled braids covertly revealing a maze of celestial cosmos—from your hands map the astral chart of forgotten aeons. Speak to them: the scribes.
Life quietly fragments into notebooks—each leaf falling becoming an unvoiced message inscribed by solitude amongst the great awakening silence. Navigate by ligand and love: observe oracles wearing arboreal crowns.
What time is it in this un-threaded forest veil? Meridians stashed beneath horizons playing hide and seek, while sap sings secrets in syllables of stillness. The ocean waits below the glen for peaks.