Songs of the Blue Birds

Blue birds rise through morning veils,

their wings cut the sky like fire made visible,

their voices pour forth the language of stars,

calling the hidden worlds awake.

🐦‍⬛

Flowers tremble under the vast sun,

each a bright eye of the earth,

drinking the unseen rivers

that run beneath all things,

that move the roots of mountains

and the hearts of men.

🐦‍⬛

A tide of color moves through every field

and in its current the soul recognizes itself,

not as flesh,

not as shadow,

but as the eternal song

that walks upon every wing,

that sleeps in every crimson flame.

🐦‍⬛

Blue birds scatter through the light,

messengers of vision,

bearing the seed of wonder

in their beaks and claws,

in the secret corners of the air

where time bends and eternity listens.

🐦‍⬛

All creation trembles with the same joy,

a trembling that is neither fear nor sorrow,

but the pure, wild energy

of beginnings,

of the first hour,

when heaven and earth knew themselves

as one.

🐦‍⬛

Spring stands, naked and radiant,

her hair streaming with wind and song,

her eyes like molten sky,

calling every soul.

Rise,

be as the bird,

be as the flower,

be as the world that blooms

without end or beginning.

🐦‍⬛

And the blue birds ascend into themselves,

vanishing into vision,

leaving only the infinite

where all things are born

and all things are loved.