Poetry and we have roots like an ancient tree

Poetry and we have roots like an ancient tree, Deeply embedded in the mysterious soil of time, Each verse, a branch reaching towards unknown heavens, Seeking divine light, yearning to touch eternity. Under the canopy of night, our leaves rustle like whispers of stars, Each word, a leaf of unspoken desires and dreams, Poetry flows through our veins like magical sap, Nourishing our souls with the essence of the world beyond. The subtle roots intertwine with forgotten memories of ages past, Through invisible layers of time, through layers of silence and light, Each branch, a story engraved on the bark of our hearts, Our flowers bloom in verses, a mix of eternal joy and melancholy. In the wind of the night, poetry and we dance like a tree of mysteries, With a strong trunk, we withstand ancient storms and pain, Our roots bind us to sacred earth, to the unseen realm, And the leaves carry our song to hidden skies. Each poem, a call to the secret light of infinity, In a melancholic symphony, our roots deepen in enigmas, Through the shadows of night, we seek answers under the enigmatic moonlight, A tree of poetry, bound to the soul, dreaming endlessly of eternity. Poetry and we are one, a sacred tree in the garden of the universe, Our branches stretch towards guiding stars, eager for sacred knowledge, In our poetic roots, we find the essence of the unknown, And thus, in our mystical melancholy, we weave our destinies with immortal words. Under the starry rain, our roots nourish from the essence of the cosmos, Each drop of light brings verses entwined in eternity, Poetry and we, a tree singing its quiet, profound melody, And in this mystical dance, we find our way to the light of the eternal present.