The Tree

How often I walk, seeking my own roots beneath the forest’s whisper, where seasons drown in colors. I love the great oak’s silence, draped in its leafy sway, roots grounded deep on earth, yet its branches arch toward the stars.

Each day, moments fold, where light weaves branches, and comes from above, beautiful are these whispers, between the flesh of life; where hidden hearts listen.

• Rainer Maria Rilke