Beneath the ancient oak, where shadows play,
Lies the silent whisper of the day.
Leaves fall like memories in the wind,
A testament to life that has sinned.

The river flows, a timeless song,
Carrying echoes of those now gone.
Stones bear witness to the tears shed,
As nature cradles the silent dead.

In the forest, where light barely creeps,
Life and death, a cycle, it keeps.
Flowers bloom where once was decay,
A promise of life, in nature’s way.

The stars above, in silent vigil stand,
Watching over this sacred land.
Nature’s embrace, both gentle and fierce,
Holds the souls that time will pierce.