I Am the Lover of Meadows, Woods, and Streams

I am the lover of meadows, woods, and streams—
Of brooks that murmur softly, cradling secrets in their flow,
And torrents that roar with unbridled freedom.
I cherish the mountains veiled in mist,
Their peaks kissed by dawn’s first light,
And draped in twilight’s tender glow.
Upon their slopes, life sings—
Wildflowers bloom defiantly in rocky soil,
Ancient trees stand as sentinels of time,
And birds trace invisible paths upon the wind.
I am the lover of rivers that weave through valleys,
Silver threads carving tales into the earth.
I am the lover of forests that whisper in twilight’s hush,
Their leaves murmuring the wisdom of ages,
And golden fields that sway with the breath of the wind,
Their waves a hymn to the rhythm of seasons.
With watchful eyes, I witness creation’s breath—
The dance of light upon the water’s skin,
The delicate balance in each blade of grass,
The wild grandeur of storms that sweep the heavens.
With listening ears, I hear the silent hymns—
The hum of bees in the sun’s embrace,
The owl’s distant call in the hush of night,
The symphony of rain as it kisses the earth.
In the vastness of the universe, I perceive
A language woven of light and shadow,
Of bloom and decay, of rise and fall—
A sacred script inscribed upon the world,
Etched in the bark of trees, the veins of leaves,
And the constellations that guide the wandering soul.
It is a language of the eternal gardener,
The unseen keeper of this boundless garden,
Who tends to life in its infinite forms,
Weaving eternity into the fabric of existence.
I am the lover of this world,
A humble student of its mysteries,
A seeker of the truths it holds.
For in its quiet corners and endless horizons,
I find not only creation’s reflection,
But the echo of my own soul,
Calling me to remember, to cherish, to belong.

MyKoul