Foks.
Time slowly fades where moss grows
The weight of light in endless fields
What the fire gently leaves behind
The weight of light in endless fields
The breath of the mountains stays warm, even when humanity walks away
The mountains keep their calm long after we’re gone. Their patience is older than our fears, older than the echoes of our voices that fade through their valleys.
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When nature stops waiting for us to return
There comes a time when the wild no longer looks for us. Forests learn to grow without footsteps, and rivers forget the sound of bridges.
Beneath the soil, seeds whisper about another day
Even in stillness, life speaks softly. Hidden under the quiet earth, small voices promise a future we can’t yet see.
Stories the stones keep to themselves
The earth remembers everything — our footsteps, our fires, our silence. Stones keep their own kind of truth, patient and wordless.
When the mountains breathe at first dawn
Morning finds its way through mist and memory. The mountains inhale light as if they’re waking from an ancient dream.
Listening to the earth between storms
There’s a calm voice in the pause before thunder. Sometimes, silence is the loudest form of understanding.
Beneath the soil, seeds whisper about another day
In the quiet dark, life hums beneath our forgetting. Tiny seeds dream of sunlight that has not yet arrived, carrying the memory of rain and patience.
Time slowly fades where moss grows
The weight of light in endless fields
What the fire gently leaves behind
A meadow quietly built from memory
How the desert softly dreams of rain
Laura Bennett
Robert Edition
Daniel Cross
Sophia Turner
The stars quietly watch as we tear down the ancient woods
Time slowly fades where moss grows
The weight of light in endless fields
What the fire gently leaves behind
