In the forest’s depth, where ancient trees recount their tales, I walk barefoot on the sunlit paths, each leaf a page of history. The birds sing above, a melodic tapestry of sounds, a celebration of life’s wonder, threaded through branches strong and wise.

I embrace the floor of moss, it cradles my yearning heart, uttering secrets of seasons, stewarding dreams in its deepness. Oh, the peace of the woodland, wrapped in the arms of trees, a sanctuary from the rush, a place where the soul can breathe.

• Pablo Neruda