Where Consciousness Took Its First Breath

Before language learned to speak, They stood among the breathing trees, Bodies lit like living questions, Skin remembering the colors of stars. No one here is named, Yet each is known. They walk slowly, as if the earth Might whisper something important at any moment. Light settles on them the way thought does, Gently, experimentally. Veins glow with borrowed suns, Chests hum with quiet understanding. This forest does not judge or command. It watches. And in its watching, these beings learn What it means to exist without needing to explain. They are not hiding. They are not lost. They are becoming, Together, in the oldest silence.