In the heart of the forest, where emerald boughs weave a cathedral of shade, the waterfall chants its liquid poetry, a silver veil spilling over moss-clad stone. Its voice, a tender lullaby of ancient streams, hushes the heart’s unrest, while its mist rises like a sacred breath, kissing the soul with whispers of eternity. Each shimmering drop mirrors the stars hidden in daylight, weaving a tapestry of peace that drapes the weary spirit in nature’s boundless grace, inviting it to linger in the wild’s unspoken song.