Gifted with the ancient, long-forgotten craft
We take flight
We see the shadows on the other side of the mirror
In a world that has lost its concept of that mirror
Still, instinct is awake, and somehow, ancestral memory is reborn through spontaneous perception.
Talented at an ancient art
In yet another era of insanity
The stage is finally set
And the setting repeats and repeats.
For this too … is memory?
Other times are still speaking, just as the dead are still talking, the losses, what was lost we still seek (in the future), the simultaneous polyphony of the present, and wholeness across time, the healing of the roots, the drawing of the circle that cuts through all these parallel worlds and also into death we still seek.