Whisper of the Wild: A Healing Hymn

A stream murmurs a delicate tune,its waters shinning underneath the moon.The silver swells kiss the shore,and carry hurts that breathe no more.

A willow sobs, but not in pain—her branches move in sweet refrain.Each leaf, a whisper, delicate and wise,with privileged insights sung to sapphire skies.

Upon a slope where lilies glow,a brilliant quiet starts to grow.The world, once uproarious, presently talks in hue—of emerald, golden, rose, and blue.

The sun pours warmth, a healer's grace,on fatigued soul and weathered face.Its brilliant hands delete despair,and brush delicate fingers through my hair.

Underneath an oak, so wide, so wise,I rest my head and near my eyes.It whispers moo through time and tree,that peace is found in being free.

The wind, the stars, the profound blue sea,all weave their sacrosanct strings through me.Nature's hymn—a emollient so true—revives my soul and paints me modern.