Life takes its place again.
Flowers grow, gently,
but nothing holds them back.
The earth moves again.
Slowly. Deeply.
It opens.
It carries.
It awakens what was dormant.
To create, again.
And again.
— Forest Cycle
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The bird lands.
It feels.
Beneath it, the earth opens.
A flower bursts through.
Alive.
It holds.
Life takes its place again.
— Forest Cycle
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A silver drop touches the earth.
Something answers.
A force rises.
A flower blooms. Alone.
Where nothing held, it holds.
— Forest Cycle
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The air hasn’t changed.
Nothing breaks. Nothing moves.
And still —
A silver drop reaches the ground.
It should mean nothing.
But something resists.
Not enough to heal.
Not enough to stop it.
Just enough to begin.
— Forest Cycle
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The threshold is behind her.
The air is thinner. Harder to hold.
Each step stays.
Nothing is taken back.
The forest does not forget.
There is no return.
Only forward.
— Forest Cycle
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The trees are weeping.
No one asks why.
No one dares.
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.
There is something in the air.
Not a smell.
Older than a smell.
Something that stays
when everything else has gone.
The branches no longer move.
Even the wind hesitates.
The forest is waiting.
It does not know for what.
It waits anyway.
— Forest Cycle
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This is not a forest.
Something happened here.
No one says what.
The trees know.
They do not speak.
The air is heavy.
Not with rain.
With something older.
Something that stayed
when everything else left.
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.
The path is still here.
No one knows why.
That is all we know.
For now.
— Forest Cycle
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After the long climb,
the mountains finally open.
The peaks stretch endlessly
in the golden light.
Somewhere along the path,
something shifted.
The meeting, the silence,
the quiet steps of the old one…
Now the mountain feels different.
Not heavier.
Clearer.
And in this immense landscape,
he finally remembers his place.
— Sënka_
Some paths don’t change you.
They reveal you.
They reach the ridge at last.
Below them,
the valley and the quiet lake
stretch into the distance.
No words needed.
For a moment,
they simply stand
and look.
— Sënka_
At the top,
there is nothing left to prove.
They reach the ridge at last.
The valley opens below them.
He has never seen it from here.
For the first time,
the young one sees the mountains
from above.
— Sënka_
Some views
only reveal themselves
when you’ve climbed long enough.