Among woven oaks and whispered constellations,
where the ceaseless dance of fiery shadows
stitches the twilight song, there sings a truth whispered by the elder trees.
The bark holds secrets thicker than memory,
hummed in the tongue of ancient phloem lies wisdom:
"Find the light that falters in roots; dream where the stars ground in evening soil."
Traverse softly through twilight glades, pathways embraced by dreaming willows,
where bramblegate opens visages in vert. Seek the runes etched in moonspark quartz,
scribed by enigma of tides invisible. In reflection, alien whispers become allies
to those who can uncoil the cipher ironbound
in branches' cradle of dewdrop sigils—a hymn in nebula and essence of Eden.