Conway’s game of life,
e^(iπ) + 1 is zero,
Just four base pairs in our DNA,
And still, we play the hero.

Twelve fermions, five bosons,
Compose our world and sky,
In every star and falling leaf,
In every brain that questions why.

I’d love to dive into the depths
Of quantum's mystic plan,
And watch the clockwork tick and hum,
To glimpse the beating heart of all.

Perhaps it’s all so simple,
Too simple to perceive,
A truth so bare and elegant,
Our minds refuse to believe.

I don't speak profit and greed.
I only speak wildness and stillness.
I speak a kind of human
Only few will understand.

If you speak dragon-fly,
If you act forest fae,
I want you in my crew
Of magic creatures!

I taught myself
A language of soul
And it feels so natural
To build upon its words.

Condensed and simplified,
I let it flow
Like forest's airy whisper,
like nature's warm embrace.

Come, speak with me
And be surprised
At your own soul's might.

You severed your roots,
and called it progress.
Then wondered why
your soul went starving.

The land that knew me better
Than any human ever did.
It whispered two and a half words:
"It's time!"

Rainy nights on nameless hills,
Golden gorse blossoms in the sun,
A silence loud enough
To echo through my bones.

Each step I took
Wrote a line of poetry.
Each hill I climbed
Etched a chapter in my soul.

And when I came back down,
Knowing who I am,
I carried more than stones.
I carried beginning.

Between my birches I do roam,
Across green plains and forests,
Between my little, secret spaces
That I call home.

I wish my tribe were here,
But it is scattered,
Around the globe,
And nowhere near.

The longing will not cease -
So this is for my tribe,
A bird's song of my home
Where my soul finds peace.

It's a perfect night
To talk to the moon
And wait for the wolves
To reply in your voice

It's a perfect night
To change your name
Into something
You always have been

It's a perfect night
To be reclaimed by the forest