The Sylvan Prism

In realms where silence weaves a silver thread,

And earthly blossoms sleep among the dead,

A garden gleams, in pure, transcendent light,

Where crystal flowers banish mortal night.

No fragile leaf, no petal soft and frail,

But sculpted light that dances on the gale.

Each facet drinks the sun's first golden kiss,

And shatters brilliance into pure abyss.

Sapphire lilies, emerald roses bright,

Amethyst dreams that pierce the velvet night.

A thousand prisms catch the moon's soft gleam,

Reflecting wonders in a waking dream.

They know no wilt, no autumn's fading sigh,

Immortal beauty 'neath an endless sky.

Through changing seasons, gentle winds that sweep,

Their steadfast splendor ancient secrets keep.

A fragile strength, a beauty hard and clear,

A silent testament, dispelling every fear.

And gazing deep into their silent glow,

The soul finds solace where such wonders grow.

A mirror held to truth, a lucid grace,

Of beauty spun beyond time's fleeting pace.

A crystal heart where light and spirit blend,

A tranquil Eden, where all journeys transcend.