Architect

I just want to fly again, to be the architect of my dreams. To soar down rubble and climb the mountains covered in ashes: the replanting of a forest, glaciers vibrant again. It is enough. It must be – it will be.

Never doubt nature and the gift of thriving. This globe we’re spinning on, its oceans alive and wild, the sun blazing and snow glazing high peaks. This is the purpose of replanting, of staying wild and pure. The trees swallow up the concrete, and the rivers rush through the back alleys. There is enough food and land; water and kindness and the whisper of hope replace the explosion of bombs.