Whispers of the Soul

Wilderness

Echoes of Ancients

Beneath the canopy where shadows play,
Lies the ancient earth, where memories sway.
Roots intertwine with tales long concealed,
In the whispers of leaves, the past is revealed.

Once, mighty tribes roamed this sprawling expanse,
Their laughter like rivers, in a timeless dance.
With fires that flickered against the dark night,
They gathered as one, hearts aglow with light.

Footprints of elders imprinted on stone,
Tell stories of struggle, of victories won.
They hunted the valleys, revered every stream,
In harmony with nature, they lived every dream.

The mountains stand silent, guardians of lore,
Holding the echoes of those who came before.
Each creak of the branches, each sigh of the breeze,
Speaks of the ancients, their hopes, and their pleas.

From the craggy cliffs to the soft river bends,
History breathes softly, as time never ends.
The scars on the earth, like pages well worn,
Map the journeys of souls, of the lost and the mourned.

The songs of the wind carry wisdom and grace,
Reminders of lives that once filled this space.
With every sunrise that colors the land,
The spirits of ancients still linger, still stand.

They whisper in rustles, in echoes so faint,
Of laughter and love, of the trials that shaped.
The stories of harvest, of seasons that changed,
Are etched in the soil, eternally ranged.

In the depth of the forest, in the stillness of night,
You can hear them still calling, in flickers of light.
A dance of remembrance, a pulse in the ground,
In the echoes of ancients, true magic is found.

So tread lightly, dear traveler, and listen with care,
To the tales of the ancients, their spirits laid bare.
For within every valley, and under each tree,
The heart of the wilderness holds history's key.