In the garden, I wander, among the earth’s wrinkled canvas, colorful blooms whisper secrets— petals and thorns whisper together. Each flower holds a story, a song from the lands they sprout, young hearts carved in sunlight, growing wild beneath the gaze of stars.

Oh, the sweet scent of life, that drifts through time, a witness to our joy and pain— this garden of endless yearning. I kneel, I dig into the soil, find myself again among roots that connect all living things, a cycle of breath, a pulse of color.

• Pablo Neruda