The Forests
Where the tree buds stop, And the streams seek flow, In the long million roots beneath, they stir. Here amongst the damp earth, Where blossoms curl and take their sleep,
The breath of nature, wilderness of spirit, Calls to the heart, hidden yet so bright. The air connects the branches, A language hard to speak but felt, In whispered tones of ancient trees.
What grows billows in the air, Life thickening without the rush, A softness that embraces stillness, Where I am cast in layers deep with roots.
- Rainer Maria Rilke