A gentle stream through mossy stones does weave, Its murmuring song the rustling leaves receive. The ancient pines their shaded secrets keep, While weary wanderers find a pause from grief. A distant bell from temple walls does sound, Echoing peace across the hallowed ground. The moon ascends her silver throne on high, Painting the world in liquid light from sky. Though seasons turn and years like water flow, This tranquil moment sets the heart aglow. In nature’s calm, all worldly cares releas...
