In the hushed expanse where trees converse, every leaf murmurs a melody unheard.
Would you not desire to listen? Follow the shadows of sunlight, step lightly where dew sparkles.
Traverse left at the third ancient oak, the one that leaned too far, searching for whispers of a different world.
Encircle the thicket thrice, for it is only in this rotation that clarity unveils itself beneath rustling canopies.
Once spun, glance back towards the first whisper; a sound before it formed words, calling on lost tunes.
Directionless yet purposeful, the notes unfold only for those who dare the symmetrical dance.
In this, find solace in the absence of paths; the forest sings not for those who follow roads but for those who forge their way through song itself.