A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its silver song the rustling reeds perceive. It tells of mountains where the eagles soar, And distant lands beyond the forest’s door. A traveler paused to hear its murmured tale, Of moonlit seas and winds that fill the sail. The water spoke of time’s unending flow, And secrets that the ancient deeps bestow. He drank its wisdom, clear and cool and deep, Then left the brook its timeless course to keep. The melody remained within his heart— A flee...
