Along Hills, valleys and glades,
The odd bird with fluttering fades,
Near the halls of the mountain king,
Birds nest and sing.

Near the coast they perch,
raising eggs among the grass,
among the hidden dunes they stay,
the air their new domain.

Singing songs of life anew,
generations in time portrayed.

There among the sands I stay,
Awaiting a travelers notion,
A silent devotion,
When the tides come in.

There above the waves,
a bridgehead with a writer,
sweating a page to the water,
where the birds travel with the sea.

It is there I find that we belong,
the waterdroplets all along,
a symbol of our current age,
a torrent of souls mingling.