Whispers of the Earth
- Whispers of Earth
Beneath the hush of waking skies,
Where dew still clings and silence lies,
The morning stirs the sleeping trees—
A symphony upon the breeze.
The river hums a silver tune,
Its rhythm soft beneath the moon.
It carries secrets in its wave,
Of roots that drink, of stones that crave.
A crow calls out from pine’s embrace,
The winds reply, they shift and race.
A flower sways, not seeking fame,
Yet glows in light, without a name.
No need for gold, no thirst for praise,
The earth just breathes in ancient ways.
And those who stop, and those who see,
May learn what it means to simply be.
– Manas Basukala