The world speaks, if you know where to listen. 

Walk with me, Into the forest. 

It just stopped raining a few minutes ago,

and all you smell is wet, muffled, damp. 

The air is humid, the wind sings. 

The forest is speaking. Listen to it. 

"I am alive. 

You are alive.

We are alive, codependent on each other to survive. 

My lumber keeps you housed, my fruit keeps you fed. 

Your breath feeds me in return," 

said the old oak tree, swaying his leaves in the breeze, humming a rustling tune with the wind.

"We need each other to live. The same goes for humans.

Lean on others like you would my trunk. 

Marvel at their beauty like you would mine. 

We are not so different, trees and people. 

You simply must know where to look."

The tree waved goodbye,

his leaves guiding us towards a babbling brook, which we followed,

and I pointed out every root I had seen someone trip over before

and we walked in silence,

because the forest had a story to tell,

so we went deeper into the woods,

our misunderstandings being drowned out by the symphony of the forest

and the smell of the petrichor.