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In the heart of the ancient wood,
Where shadows dance in twilight's grace,
In a realm where time is without trace.

Branches creak like the whisper of ghosts
The moonlight bathes the spectral hosts,
In its silver glow, where the north wind blows

Through the mist that cloaks the trees,
The spirits drift on a path unknown,
In solitude, where their sorrow grows

Veils of fog wrap around these souls
Binding them to the forest's embrace,
Where these spirits know only night's cold face.

Beneath the stars' eternal gaze,
The spirit's song is but a mournful hymn,
They yearn for light on horizon's rim.

As dawn breaks through the tangled boughs,
The spirits fade with the morning mist,
To an eternal silence, they can't resist.

In the heart, of the woods, where spirits cling

Finding solace in the songs that they sing.

Oh spectral winds, guide me home,

Through the forest's silent loam.