Beneath the soft-spun green,
where stone and root rest in silence,
moss gathers itself.

It clings, quietly—
with soft shades of green,
cradling close the forgotten—
a fallen branch,
broken walls,
blanketing the injured places
left to time.

Moss teaches us to rest
in a gathering of dark places,
where eyes have no reason
to remain shut.
It is a slow healing after sorrow—
the way the world forgives itself.

Walk with care—
where moss stretches,
with a patience that heals
and forgives—
forever enduring,
forever moss.