A gentle stream through mossy stones does glide, Reflecting clouds that in its surface glide. It murmurs tales of mountains far and wide, Where ancient pines on rugged cliffs reside. A deer descends to drink its silver flow, As twilight paints the west with amber glow. No worldly troubles dare to venture here— Just moonbeams dancing on the water clear. This timeless scene, both peaceful and profound, Whispers that truth in simplest things is found. The stream flows on, its wisdom soft and dee...