A Gesture of Brutal Honesty

 

           The Forest's Last Breath, A Gesture of Brutal Honesty

                                        By Alberto Thirion 

Below, in the shadowy earth, the forest has fallen silent. The trees are now shadowy skeletons, unable to hold anything back. They have released their truths, their mistakes, and their sunny days, letting the cold settle among their branches.
But the wind, the only one that knows the way up, did not allow those leaves to rot in the mud. It reclaimed them.
In a gesture of brutal honesty, the air gathered them in the center of the void. It did not build a monument of stone or heavy wood; it raised a cross of air and organic remains. It is a figure that seems to tell us that the sacred is not always solid. Sometimes, the greatest redemption is born from what is already dead, from what has fallen and yet refuses to disappear completely.
Each leaf is a fragment of a life gone, floating in that infinite blue where pain no longer weighs, but memory still has form. It is the sacrifice of matter becoming spirit before the gaze of winter.

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