The Tenacity of Ivy

The Ivy speaks in whispers we can't hear,  
roots tunneling through stories we forgot.  
It latches onto silence, dines on stillness,  
wrapping ruins in its quiet embrace.  

It knows the language of crumbling stone,  
how to climb where others crumble.  
Long after the architects have departed,  
it holds their dreams like tender secrets.  

No clock commands its persistence,  
no storm bends its ageless resolve.  
It measures time in the stretch of shadows,  
its leaves a testament to steadfast decay.  

Born to outlast what men construct,  
it thrives where ambition crumbles to dust.  
To the Ivy, all walls are invitations,  
all endings a promise of new beginnings.  

So let it climb, unfurl, and conquer—  
the quiet conqueror of forgotten edges.  
Rare and ancient, resiliently green,  
the Ivy endures where we cannot remain.