In their stillness, trees speak louder than words.

They stand—

Tall, unwavering,

As if they were the first to rise

When the earth learned how to breathe.

Trees—

Not just wood and leaf,

But living libraries

Where every ring of bark

Is a chapter of time.

Their roots dig deep,

Holding stories of forgotten rains,

Of suns that set a thousand times,

Of winds that carried

Both sorrow and song.

They do not run from storms—

They embrace them,

Letting their branches sway

But never breaking their vow

To stand.

In spring,

They write poetry in blossoms.

In summer,

They give shade to tired wanderers.

In autumn,

They let go with grace,

Teaching us that loss

Can also be beautiful.

In winter,

They whisper patience,

Reminding us

That life sleeps but never dies.

The tree is a teacher

Who never speaks,

Yet its silence

Holds more wisdom than any book.

It tells us:

“Grow slow,

But grow strong.

Bend,

But do not break.

Give,

Without asking to receive.”

Children climb them,

Lovers carve promises on their bark,

Birds weave homes in their branches.

And still,

The tree asks for nothing—

But air,

And a little sun.

What if we lived like trees?

Rooted in kindness,

Growing toward light,

Offering shelter,

Carrying patience,

And knowing when

To let go.

The forest is not just a place—

It is a choir of souls,

Every tree a singer

In an ancient hymn

That says:

“We are life.

Protect us,

For in our breath

You find your own.”

Thank you so much for reading.❤️❤️❤️