A gentle stream through mossy stones does wind, Its silver voice a balm to troubled mind. It speaks of ancient pines and skies so deep, And secrets that the mountain slopes do keep. A lonely traveler pauses by its side, To let the flowing, tranquil thoughts abide. He drinks the water, clear and cold and sweet, And finds his weary journey now complete. For in that moment, time itself stands still, As nature works upon the human will. The babbling water sings a timeless song— How all things pas...
