3:24
The forest awakens in silence, Soft pads bloom like mist over moss, each note glimmering with dew, Faint field recordings of wind and distant birds breathe between drifting chords, while fragile piano tones move as slowly as sunlight crawling across stone, No rhythm leads; only the pulse of air and warmth, Reverb lingers long enough to feel alive, like breath caught in the lungs of an ancient world learning to inhale again, The harmony is tender, almost hesitant — grief remembered only as texture, not pain, Midway, faint choral voices rise from the mist — wordless and human, yet older than language — carrying the sense of light returning to forgotten places, The piece ends as it began: still, open, and full of quiet life
3:23
The forest awakens in silence, Soft pads bloom like mist over moss, each note glimmering with dew, Faint field recordings of wind and distant birds breathe between drifting chords, while fragile piano tones move as slowly as sunlight crawling across stone, No rhythm leads; only the pulse of air and warmth, Reverb lingers long enough to feel alive, like breath caught in the lungs of an ancient world learning to inhale again, The harmony is tender, almost hesitant — grief remembered only as texture, not pain, Midway, faint choral voices rise from the mist — wordless and human, yet older than language — carrying the sense of light returning to forgotten places, The piece ends as it began: still, open, and full of quiet life