soundscapes for the spirits of moss as they start their day with a sip of morning dew 𖡼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

I rest my head on the sun-drenched moss,
a bed shaped by centuries of dying leaves
and the slow turning of the earth.

The forest is dark —
not the darkness of endings,
but the fertile black where things begin.

Above me…