A gentle stream through mossy stones does wind, Its silver voice a balm to troubled mind. It sings of journeys from the mountain’s height, Of dancing in the sun and embracing night. It carries stories from the ancient trees, And hums them softly on the evening breeze. Though small it seems, it wears the rock away, And greets the vast, patient ocean at break of day. So may our hearts, with constant, quiet grace, Find strength to flow and time to leave a trace.
