In the midst of ancient trees, under the protective gaze of invisible majesties, the birds gather.
At a pace that still eludes us.
In the southern sky, the sounds that emerge from one place to another are diverse, fascinating.
They speak of beings and times blending together.
They speak of a celebration.
A moment where we finally honor our encounters,
Our loves,
Our friendships,
Our disorders, and that exquisite synchronicity.
Almost everything converges at this moment. The light in the clearing, where the sun sneaks in and casts a few beams, highlighting a few crossings, and elevating your dances.
And then those blue flashes.
The piercing eyes,
The cries,
The sound of our voices
Mixing with the song of the machines,
These frequencies that envelop us
Resist to our ills,
Like a wave,,,
Immense.
Like a yearning to grasp the entire sky,
So intense it feels.
It’s the stars that tell you
What is happening here.
And so, it’s true
A breath of stardust overwhelms us with every crossing of the fields. From one end to the other.
A gentle reminder that it’s finally time to appreciate:
The Song of the Birds.
