A gentle stream through mossy stones did glide, Beneath the willow’s gracefully bowed shade. It murmured tales of journeys far and wide, As dappled light and shadow softly played. A traveler paused to hear its liquid song, And found the waters clear as crystal glass. They carried memories both old and long, Of seasons passing like the swaying grass. The brook spoke not of grandeur nor of fame, But simple truths in ripples, cool and deep. It whispered how all currents are the same— Both joy an...

A gentle stream through mossy stones did glide, Beneath the willow’s gracefully bowed shade. It murmured tales of journeys far and wide, As dappled light and shadow softly played. A traveler paused to hear its liquid song, And found the waters clear as crystal glass. They carried memories both old and long, Of seasons passing like the swaying grass. The brook spoke not of grandeur nor of fame, But simple truths in ripples, cool and deep. It whispered how all currents are the same— Both joy an...