The fox, with cunning eyes.

Poetry

The fox, with cunning eyes.

Beneath the stars that watch in silent glee,

In the deep woods where shadows softly speak,

There lives a story ancient as the trees,

A tale of life, of struggle, fierce yet meek.

Through the thick, where brambles weave their maze,

And rivers carve their paths in earth’s embrace,

Survival sings a song in primal praise,

Of creatures small and grand in time and space.

The deer that leaps through dawn’s first amber light,

Its heart a drum that pounds the rhythm strong,

Knows well the dance of day and tender night,

Where life is brief and death is ever long.

The hawk that soars on wings of sharpened grace,

Eyes keen to spy the scurry far below,

Embodies patience, strength, and will to chase,

For in the hunt, survival’s truths bestow.

Among the pines where moss and mushrooms bloom,

The fox, with cunning eyes, slips through the brush,

Its breath a whisper in the forest’s room,

A flicker in the twilight’s gentle hush.

Beneath the soil, the roots entwine and creep,

In search of sustenance within the gloom,

A silent web, a promise that they keep,

To rise each spring from winter’s icy tomb.

And humankind, with heart and mind so vast,

Yet often blind to nature’s whispered call,

Must learn from all the echoes of the past,

That strength and wisdom lie within us all.

Survival is a tapestry, threadbare,

Yet rich with color, vibrant with the fight,

A testament to life’s enduring flare,

A beacon glowing in the endless night.

So let us walk with reverence through the land,

With open eyes and hearts that beat as one,

For in the dance of nature’s careful hand,

Survival’s song is never truly done.

Each step we take upon this earthly stage,

Each breath we draw beneath the endless sky,

We honor those who tread in every age,

And live, as they, with spirit fierce and high.

For in the end, it’s not the strongest reign,

But those who blend with nature’s ancient lore,

Who find in life both solace and the pain,

And know that to survive is to explore.

To journey through the wild and the tame,

To seek the light in shadowed, hidden glades,

Is to embrace the beauty of the flame,

And cherish every moment as it fades.

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Nice dream.

In slumber's gentle, uncharted embrace,

Where shadows blend with light in soft ballet,

The mind takes flight to realms of boundless grace,

Beyond the confines of the waking day.

Through silver threads of twilight's whispered song,

We journey forth to lands unseen, unknown,

Where time and space, like rivers, flow along,

And every thought becomes a world our own.

Beneath the stars, where night’s calm whispers creep,

We drift on currents, silent, deep, and clear,

Exploring vistas crafted in our sleep,

Where every dream is vivid, bright, and near.

The forest glades of dreams, with leaves of gold,

Expand in endless labyrinths of light,

Where secrets of the heart are softly told,

In murmured echoes of the tranquil night.

We wander through the meadows of our mind,

Where flowers bloom with colors yet unnamed,

And in these fields, forgotten treasures find,

In moments of pure wonder, unclaimed.

The mountains rise in majesty and might,

Their peaks are kissed by moonbeams, soft and pale,

We climb these heights with effortless delight,

In dreams where every step is but a trail.

And there, upon the shores of crystal seas,

Where waves of memory lap gentle sand,

We sail on ships of thought, with ease,

To distant islands crafted by our hand.

In dreams, the past and future intertwine,

A dance of visions, fleeting yet profound,

Where echoes of what was and what will shine,

In whispered tones, a symphony of sound.

The people we have loved, both near and far,

Appear in spectral forms, their faces clear,

We talk with them beneath the dream's bright star,

And feel their presence as if they were near.

In dreams, we are the masters of our fate,

Unbound by limits, free to soar and play,

We write our stories, early, never late,

In realms where night gives birth to endless day.

So let us cherish dreams, those nightly flights,

Where every soul can wander unrestrained,

For in those moments, wrapped in silver nights,

We find the truths our waking life has feigned.

For dreams are where our deepest hopes reside,

A canvas vast, where thoughts and wishes blend,

A sanctuary where our spirits glide,

And every journey finds its destined end.

Thus, may we dream with open hearts and eyes,

Embrace the magic of the twilight's beams,

And know that in the realms where slumber lies,

We live a life unbounded by our dreams.