Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, An ancient pine recounts a dream. Of whispered tales through rustling boughs, Of winter’s hush and summer’s vows. A traveler paused in twilight’s glow, His heart weighed down by worldly woe. The tree recalled a thousand years— Of joy, of triumph, pain and tears. “See how the stars above still turn, Though empires rise and cities burn. The breeze that stirs my needles now Once kissed the sage’s thoughtful brow.” He left his burdens in the shade, Where wisd...
