Veins of the Earth

In the abyss of the emerald wood, whispering leaves tell tales of old,
Where roots, like ancient sages, stand firm, in earthy hold.
Branches stretch to the heavens, in a silent, reverent plea,
As the wind carries echoes of what was, and what will be.

Rivers, the veins of the Earth, with a pulse strong and clear,
Meander through valleys and hills, a path both far and near.
Their waters, a mirror to the soul, reflecting skies so vast,
Remind us of the fleeting time, and shadows that we cast.

Mountains rise with stories etched in stone and ice,
A testament to resilience, and nature’s solemn advice.
To stand unyielded, against the tempest's furious roar,
And to find in each struggle, a reason to soar.

As seasons paint the canvas of the world with change,
From the bloom of spring to winter’s frosty range,
We see in nature’s cycle, our own ephemeral lives,
A journey of renewal, where only essence survives.

So let us tread lightly upon this Earth, our home,
With reverence for its beauty, wherever we may roam.
For in the vastness of life, and in its intricate weave,
Lies the poetry of existence, for those who believe.