Beneath the whispering winds, it lies,
Cradling roots in its tender embrace,
A tapestry woven of ancient sighs,
Where life finds its sacred space.

In every grain, a story untold,
Of time and transformation’s gentle hand,
Its depths a treasure trove of gold,
Nurturing life across the land.

The dance of rain upon its face,
A melody of growth and decay,
In its heart, a timeless grace,
A silent promise of a new day.

Oh, soil, humble and profound,
In your bosom, the world is born,
In you, the cycles of life are found,
From dusk till the break of morn.