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Whispers of the Living Earth
<p><em>Beneath the hush of morning light,</em></p><p><em>Where silver mists and dreams take flight,</em></p><p><em>The earth awakens, slow and deep,</em></p><p><em>From ancient roots where secrets sleep.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>The sun, a golden whisperer,</em></p><p><em>Draws breath across the softest fir,</em></p><p><em>And trees like sentries tall and wise</em></p><p><em>Lift prayers into the blushing skies.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>Each leaf a scroll of emerald hue,</em></p><p><em>Inscribed with rain, the wind, the dew—</em></p><p><em>They flutter not for praise or fame,</em></p><p><em>Yet speak the pulse of life the same.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>The river hums a song of grace,</em></p><p><em>It carves its path, it knows its place.</em></p><p><em>Not forced, but flowing as it must,</em></p><p><em>It teaches hearts the art of trust.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>The mountains rise in silent might,</em></p><p><em>Their crowns aglow with dawn’s first light,</em></p><p><em>And in their stillness, firm and true,</em></p><p><em>We see the strength in simply being too.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>A fox moves swift through twilight’s veil,</em></p><p><em>Its rust-hued coat a flicking tale</em></p><p><em>Of instinct, balance, keenest thought—</em></p><p><em>A rhythm we forgot, then sought.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>The storm arrives with thunder’s roar,</em></p><p><em>Yet leaves the forest strong once more.</em></p><p><em>Each battered limb, each broken bough</em></p><p><em>Becomes a part of what is now.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>Oh nature, gift so vast, so wide,</em></p><p><em>You cradle stars and oceans’ tide.</em></p><p><em>You do not speak in human tongue,</em></p><p><em>Yet every song you’ve sung is sung.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>You give without a ledger's gaze,</em></p><p><em>Your wealth not bound by coin or praise.</em></p><p><em>The fruit, the shade, the breath we take—</em></p><p><em>All offered freely, for our sake.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>But still, we rush, we build, we break,</em></p><p><em>We drain your rivers, burn your lakes.</em></p><p><em>And yet you give, and bloom, and bend—</em></p><p><em>An ever-patient, tireless friend.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>So let us walk with softer tread,</em></p><p><em>And honor every root and thread.</em></p><p><em>For we are not above this land—</em></p><p><em>It shaped our bones, it formed our hands.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>To touch the soil is to recall</em></p><p><em>That we are part of nature’s thrall—</em></p><p><em>Not masters here, but kin, in truth,</em></p><p><em>Returning now to sacred youth.</em></p><p><em><br></em></p><p><em>So pause and breathe the pine-sweet air,</em></p><p><em>Let starlight rest within your care.</em></p><p><em>The world is old, but still it grows—</em></p><p><em>The gift of nature ever flows.</em></p><p><br></p>
Whispers of the Living Earth
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Bu Kun
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Bu Kun
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