In the stillness of twilight’s breath,
where shadows stretch and stars confess,
a thread of light begins to weave,
a story the soul can barely perceive.

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The earth hums low, a steady refrain,
a song of loss, of joy, of pain.
Each leaf that falls, a whispered vow,
to life’s wild pulse, to the sacred now.

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Beneath the canopy of ancient skies,
questions linger, truths disguise.
The path is hidden, the map unclear,
yet the heart beats bold, untouched by fear.

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The river flows with secrets untold,
its waters dark, its current cold.
But dive you must, to truly find,
the depths of love, the unspoken mind.

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For every shadow holds a flame,
a spark that calls the soul by name.
And in that flame, the wild is known—
not just a journey, but coming home.