As daylight fades, and thick grey clouds descend,

A handful of starlings swoop and twist

In perfect unison, a shape-shifting silhouette,

Against the burnished sunset sky.

In reciprocation to this flight of freedom, of joy,

More starlings gather and soar and dive,

An intricately coordinated pattern, a collective dance,

To fend off foe, defy the elements through exultant grace.

And I ask myself, is it like those whispers of clarity,

That fly into our awareness and demand,

That every cell inside wakes up and heeds the call,

To pursue our deepest truth?

Energy gathers, uprises to break free, from the binds of,

Overwhelming grief, crushing despair, or not feeling enough.

It fends off each unjust thought that cuts us down or puffs us up,

Discards all unworthy concepts that weigh less than true.

We parry and spar until this struggle becomes a dance.

 We rise in Grace, then plunge to cleanse the depths of our beings,

To soar again with an ever-increasing momentum, 

Of purity, of purpose, of lightness, in Love.

Hundreds of tiny beating wings rise up,

Emblazoned against the pink, orange, and golden hues of dusk,

Then plummet, invisible against the rippling green sea,

To swoop and rise again in a breath-stealing wonder.

A murmur, a wave, of sound, of dance, of song,

Gloriously pulsates in mesmerising harmony,

Lighting up the sky within, in a spectacle of rapture,

Before going home to roost.

If these words resonate with you, feel free to comment.