When I walk through the forest,
I hear the sound of rustling leaves,
A softened breath among the boughs,
A lullaby the morning weaves.
I. Awakening
Dawn drips gold along the trunks,
Each drop a promise, faint and clear,
That shadows bow to gentle light
And silence yields what longs to hear.
A thread of mist entwines the pines,
Unraveling sleep from every limb;
I trace its flight with quiet steps,
My heartbeat tuned to woodland hymn.
II. Memory
Beneath the oak, a hollowed heart
Still holds the name I carved in youth—
A tender mark of fleeting time,
A vow of wonder and of truth.
I see that child with tangled hair,
Bright-eyed against the rising sun;
Her laughter threads through ancient roots,
And tells me I was once that one.
The fern recalls the summer rain
That danced upon her upturned face;
The earth remembers every foot
That rushed along this secret place.
III. Solitude
Now comes the hush, a velvet shroud,
Where only breath and thought abide;
No footfall stirs the loamy bed,
No startled bird can break my stride.
Alone, I am the forest’s guest,
Its confidant in quietude;
It offers space for every sigh,
And every sorrow is subdued.
A single beam slips through the leaves,
A dagger of celestial grace;
It warms my brow, it lights the path
That winds me deeper into space.
IV. Renewal
And when the breeze begins again,
It carries seeds of what may grow;
A whisper of the green to come,
A promise only stillness knows.
The fallen leaf, decayed to loam,
Becomes the cradle of new life;
So too my burdens melt away,
Dissolved within the forest’s strife.
I lift my face to sky’s expanse,
Embrace the pulse of earth and air;
Each breath a vow to start anew,
Freed from the weight I used to bear.
V. The Listening Path
When I depart, the woods remain,
Their secret voices in my veins;
Not merely where my footsteps passed,
But where my spirit still sustains.
They asked for nothing, yet they gave
A quiet heart and open sight;
A part of me will always rest
Within their calm, unfurling light.
So let me walk this path again,
With all my questions born afresh—
For in the hush of rustling leaves,
I find the truth that time enmeshes.
And in that truth, I carry home
A forest’s song beneath my skin—
An echo of the living world,
Where every end becomes begin.
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