Meditative Forest Poem

Morning light stretches through the forest’s bones,

Tracing patterns on the old oak’s skin.

A quiet breath sweeps through the scattered stones,

As shadows waltz where day and night begin.

The brook sings softly to the waking moss,

Its voice a thread that mends the broken streams.

Fern fronds unfurl, a gentle green emboss,

Carving out paths where sunlight barely gleams.

Yet here it shifts—each sound becomes a pause,

The pulse of earth now slowed beneath my feet.

The world folds inward, bound by unseen laws,

Where all is vast, yet delicate and sweet.

Between each step, I feel the rhythm blend,

A journey’s start that knows no certain end.