Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, A lonely stream began to dream. It whispered tales to ancient stones, Of forgotten kings and broken thrones. The wind carried through pine trees high, A lullaby for passersby. Each needle stirred with memories deep, Guarding secrets the mountains keep. A hermit walked with weary grace, And saw his past in that still place. The pines sighed low, “Let sorrows rest, Nature’s heart knows what is best.” He smiled as dawn began to break— For peace’s sake, his s...

Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, A lonely stream began to dream. It whispered tales to ancient stones, Of forgotten kings and broken thrones. The wind carried through pine trees high, A lullaby for passersby. Each needle stirred with memories deep, Guarding secrets the mountains keep. A hermit walked with weary grace, And saw his past in that still place. The pines sighed low, “Let sorrows rest, Nature’s heart knows what is best.” He smiled as dawn began to break— For peace’s sake, his s...