Beneath the moon’s soft silver gleam, A lonely stream began to dream. It whispered secrets to the stones, Of ancient kings and fallen thrones. A willow wept with leaves of green, Recalling all it had once seen— The laughter of a child at play, Who grew and wandered far away. Yet in the night, the wind would bring A faint, forgotten song to sing. Of how the world still turns and bends, And every broken thing mends. So rest your heart and simply be, Like this old stream, wild and free. For even...