Echoes of the Depths

The earth, once scarred by shadow’s hand,
Now trembles soft, a waking land.
From soil soaked with roots that bled,
New shoots arise where death had fed.

The storm has passed, its howling stilled,
The air now warm, the silence filled.
With whispers light, the seeds take hold,
Their leaves like sparks of green and gold.

The soil hums with tender grace,
A pulse of life begins its race.
No longer bound by gloom’s demand,
It rises tall, a fearless stand.

Though remnants of the past remain,
They sing of hope, not loss or pain.
The cycle turns, as it must do—
To bury old, and birth the new.