The earth had shouted
And the sky still holds the dreams of falling stars
The trees stood in silence
Listening
Their branches moved
Like thoughts not meant for human minds

A cat emerged from the dark
His gaze was older than time
His steps falling like forgotten prayers
Onto moss that remembered
What the world had forgotten
He did not speak
But something in me answered

The forest is not a place
It is a being
Not made of wood, but of presence
Its roots seek not only water
They seek memory
And kindness
They twist through the bones of the earth
Drinking the dreams of stones

There are no lies here
Only raw truths
No concrete
No stained glass
Only wind
And the soft breathing of animals
And insects

Who have never doubted
What holiness means

The cat watched me from the edge of the shadows
And in his stillness
I saw surrender without defeat
He was not afraid
He simply belonged
He blessed me without permission

I have read many books of God
But none as clear
As the way the crow rises through the fog
Or how the birch peels back its skin
To reveal another silence underneath

If there is a church
It is here
Where the spider weaves
Between the ribs of the oak
And the rain does not ask
If it may fall

Now when I kneel
It is not out of shame
But admiration
To the wind.
To all living creatures.
To the trees that stood longer than empires

To the stillness that sees
And forgives.