The forest breathes a quiet song,
Where shadows drift, soft yet strong.
Mist wraps the trees in ghostly shrouds,
Hiding the sky, muffling the sounds.

A trail stretches, forked and bare,
With arrows etched for those who dare.
Do they point to solace, or unknown fears?
Through the fog, the path appears.

Leaves, brittle, coat the ground,
Echoing steps with a crackling sound.
Stumps stand like remnants of time erased,
Roots lingering, memories encased.

The air is still, the moment slow,
A world of pause where time won’t go.
Follow the arrows, heed their plea—
Or lose yourself in eternity.