Whisper Forest

In the depth of each shadow, a voice lingers, sings softly, sings hauntingly. "Follow me, follow me."

You step forward, the ground receiving you like an old friend, nurturing, cradling.

Once, long ago, another traveler listened. They lingered between the trees, woven in whispers.

Again, the voice calls from a distance, swelling like the tide. "Follow me, follow me."

The air pulses with secrets untold, each breath a chapter, each rustle a line of poetry.

Another step, another word, another echo fading into the twilight. You remember the way they walked, step by careful step.

And still, the whispers hold you, "Follow me, follow me."

Paths diverge, converge, and diverge again. It's circular, it's infinite, and you are part of this cycle.

Your heart beats in time with the forest, with each cycle of light and shadow. You are not lost, you are found.