Beside the mossy stones I stray, Where silver waters dance and play. A gentle murmur fills the air, As if the stream tells tales so rare. It speaks of mountains clad in mist, By morning sun’s soft kiss insist. Of cherry blossoms’ brief delight, That fall like stars in moonless night. A lonely heron stands so still, Where twilight climbs the eastern hill. The current flows through time and space, Carving its path with ancient grace. No need for words when nature sings— The timeless truth the w...
