Where Earth Remembers

 

“Where Earth Remembers”

Tucked within a woodland clearing, a spring of muddy water wells from the ground—a quiet, living pulse of the land. Tree roots reach out like fingers of the ancients, guarding the pool with reverent silence. Rocks, etched by time and rainfall, form a sanctuary of stillness. Shafts of filtered light pierce the canopy, kissing the glistening mud and calling forth a primal memory.

This isn’t just a spring. It’s a cradle of ritual—where the earth speaks in murmur and texture. Here, someone may have once bathed to be blessed, washed their hands to begin anew, or whispered a prayer into the water before planting dreams beneath its watchful mud. Every splash holds a secret. Every ripple, an echo of a soul returning to its source.

💬 Lovable Quote

“She didn’t kneel for the water—she bowed for what it remembered.”

🌙 Poem: 

“The Mud Pool Sang in Earth’s Voice”

In the hush where roots embrace the wet,

A pool was born where suns forget.

No marble stone, no gilded gate—

Just mud and time, and patient fate.

The trees bowed close with solemn grace,

Each leaf a note in sacred space.

The ground breathed deep beneath the moss,

Where water rose without a gloss.

No chant was sung, no ritual grand,

Just bare feet pressing into land—

To touch the spring, not to be clean,

But to feel the pulse of what had been.

She cupped the past in trembling hands,

A moment made not to withstand—

But to dissolve, then bloom anew,

Like seeds the forest always knew.