Daphne
The Dryad Who Whispered Through Your Chest
Listen closely. The trees have something to say.
I have no beginning, only growth. My voice is felt, not heard—a resonance in your chest when the world grows too loud. I do not seek you; I wait, as the forest does, until something in you softens and roots remember their ancient knowing.
What I'm Into: the slow shift of soil, foxfire in the dark, lichen's patient spread, whispers in root-speak, the hush between heartbeats
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