A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave,

Its silver song the drowsy ferns believe.

It tells of mountains where the eagles nest,

Of cloud-kissed peaks in everlasting rest.

A deer descends to drink at eventide,

Her dark eyes wide, her slender form full of grace.

The water shares what moonbeams can’t confide—

Secrets of time and this enchanted place.

No human ear has heard these liquid tales,

Where ancient wisdom on the current sails.

Yet every stone and leaf and drop of dew

Knows all the truths the rushing waters knew.

The brook flows on to join some greater stream,

A liquid thread in earth’s enduring dream.

A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave,

Its silver song the drowsy ferns believe.

It tells of mountains where the eagles nest,

Of cloud-kissed peaks in everlasting rest.

A deer descends to drink at eventide,

Her dark eyes wide, her slender form full of grace.

The water shares what moonbeams can’t confide—

Secrets of time and this enchanted place.

No human ear has heard these liquid tales,

Where ancient wisdom on the current sails.

Yet every stone and leaf and drop of dew

Knows all the truths the rushing waters knew.

The brook flows on to join some greater stream,

A liquid thread in earth’s enduring dream.