In the deep silence of the forest, where the wind whispers forgotten tales
In the deep silence of the forest, where the wind whispers forgotten tales,
lies the mystery of the birds' language, a symphony of ancient songs,
in the prophetic bones of those who know, travelers through times and dreams,
carrying the memory of old days when man and bird were one.
In those golden times, when sky and earth sang together in harmony,
humans transformed into birds, donning the plumage of pure freedom,
and birds turned into humans, keeping the endless sky in their gaze,
a magical dance of metamorphosis, a common language of the living soul.
In the quiet of dawn, when the sun gently caresses the world with its rays,
the prophet remembers how the sky spoke through the song of the starlings,
how each trill was a story, an echo of divine times,
when every creature was a verse in the unwritten poem of the universe.
And thus, in the heart of the forest, is born the longing for those lost times,
when the barriers between worlds were mere illusions, and truth was pure,
when man found his wings in dreams and birds sang of us,
a time when the language of love was sung by all beings, like a choir.
In the depths of my heart, I feel the call of this ancestral language,
a yearning to reclaim that sacred knowledge, that song of peace,
where every word, every trill, is a bridge between sky and earth,
a testament of unity and harmony, written on the infinite sky of the soul.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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