Catégorie : Forest Cycle

Life takes its place again.

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Flowers grow, gently,

but nothing holds them back.

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The earth moves again.

Slowly. Deeply.

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It opens.

It carries.

It awakens what was dormant.

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To create, again.

And again.

— Forest Cycle

The bird lands.

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It feels.

Beneath it, the earth opens.

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A flower bursts through.

Alive.

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It holds.

Life takes its place again.

— Forest Cycle

A silver drop touches the earth.

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Something answers.

A force rises.

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A flower blooms. Alone.

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Where nothing held, it holds.

— Forest Cycle

The air hasn’t changed.

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Nothing breaks. Nothing moves.

And still —

A silver drop reaches the ground.

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It should mean nothing.

But something resists.

Not enough to heal.

Not enough to stop it.

Just enough to begin.

— Forest Cycle

The threshold is behind her.

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The air is thinner. Harder to hold.

Each step stays.

Nothing is taken back.

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The forest does not forget.

There is no return.

Only forward.

— Forest Cycle

The trees are weeping.

No one asks why.

No one dares.

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It is not the clouds.

It is them.

Their tears run slowly down the bark.

As if the wood itself

can no longer hold what it has seen.

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There is something in the air.

Not a smell.

Older than a smell.

Something that stays

when everything else has gone.

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The branches no longer move.

Even the wind hesitates.

The forest is waiting.

It does not know for what.

It waits anyway.

— Forest Cycle

This is not a forest.

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Something happened here.

No one says what.

The trees know.

They do not speak.

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The air is heavy.

Not with rain.

With something older.

Something that stayed

when everything else left.

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The light that falls here

does not reach the ground.

It stops midway.

As if it remembers.

As if it is afraid to touch

what is below.

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The path is still here.

No one knows why.

That is all we know.

For now.

— Forest Cycle