Beneath my feet the earth still hums,
A song too deep for mortal tongues.
It calls through roots that twist below,
Through rivers carved by time’s slow flow.

The hills remember every step,
Of those who danced, of those who wept.
They hold the footprints left behind,
Soft echoes folded into time.

The forest listens, still and wise,
Its secrets locked beneath the skies.
The wind, a scribe, records it all,
From rising dawn to twilight’s fall.

Oh, whispering earth, so vast, so deep,
You guard the dreams the lost ones keep.
And though we walk and though we roam,
You call us always back to home.