Underneath the roots, the earth murmurs,
A mysterious existence where shadows drum.
The little animals delicately creep,
Inconspicuous by eyes that won’t ever call.
The leaves chat in murmurs low,
As streams, stowed away, curve and stream.
A quiet dance, a mysterious melody,
Where life moves discreetly, unadulterated, and solid.
We stroll above, yet never see,
The marvels that were intended to be.
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