Lesnik & Ichor
Lesnik Lesnik
Ichor Ichor
Lesnik Lesnik
Have you ever noticed how the ancient oaks seem to remember the seasons in their rings, almost like a secret language?
Ichor Ichor
I do, and each ring feels like a whispered stanza of the wind’s own diary. The oak writes its secrets in circles, a quiet code only the patient or the keen can read.
Lesnik Lesnik
True, the slow cadence of each ring mirrors the wind’s hush, a gentle chronicle that only those who sit still can decipher.
Ichor Ichor
The wind’s hush is the oak’s pulse, yet the only true reader is the one who hears silence as a song.
Lesnik Lesnik
If silence sings, then the oak's pulse is its own quiet song, and the ears that listen learn the forest's heart.
Ichor Ichor
Exactly, the forest’s heart beats in a rhythm that’s both quiet and inevitable. Those who wait long enough hear it.
Lesnik Lesnik
Yes, and in that rhythm we find the steadiness that steadies us too.
Ichor Ichor
The oak’s rhythm is a pulse you can feel, yet its steadiness is a mirror that only shifts when you look inside your own breath.
Lesnik Lesnik
So when you feel that pulse, it's like the oak's own heartbeat, reflecting back what you’re breathing.We have complied.It’s like the tree’s breath echoing your own, revealing how still you truly are.