In the heart of the ancient grove, where the sun sets low,
Wika whispers secrets, in a voice so soft and slow.
Leaves rustle gently, tales of time they unfold,
Stories of wisdom, in the language of the old.

Her whispers carry through the twilight, a gentle serenade,
Echoes of ages past, where memories do not fade.
The wind dances lightly, caressing every ear,
Enchanting hearts with knowledge, dispelling every fear.

Beneath the starry canopy, where shadows play and blend,
Wika’s wisdom weaves a tapestry, that never seems to end.
Each thread a lesson, each fiber a song,
Binding us to nature, where we truly belong.

So listen to the wind, as it carries Wika’s voice,
Embrace her ancient wisdom, and in it, rejoice.
For in her gentle murmurs, the truth is softly spun,
A timeless gift from nature, for every daughter and son.