I see the forests worshipped in their tall grandeur shading families from the scorching sun... From Colombia to Lenapehoking, this is Home 

The wind sends her whispers... Traveling through time itself to speak wisdoms and fill our hearts, we stood there listening to this language

The Rain Dancer and the Fire Sprite, the most perfect duet: our feet kiss the Earth, the wind sings in our ears, rain drops dance on the

Coming to the South I wonder, where did all the stories go? Like a giant library the marsh mud holds legends of old times, the trees...

He said if growing up means giving up, then I’d rather stay a child seeing a world full of beauty, hoping for the future...

Sun streaks peak through the blanket of clouds, painting the sky with rainbows: there is no color like the smell of damp earth. We dance...

I wish the moon would swallow me whole so I can bathe in the illuminescence of her white belly, so I can float weightlessly amongst lotus...

She shakes as her elephant skin is pierced with drills. In her majesty she swats away the mighty man as if he is no more than a housefly...

Our mother, she cries, with unceasing tears. She sobs for hours, for days, for weeks. We hear the thundering beat of her broken heart as...

We sing until we choke on the ashes of bleeding forests, we run until our lungs are filled with soot and our hearts sink into the depths...

Born of angels not a mother, not a father raised by love incarnate in a vivid world without color where the harsh contrasts of white on...

La terre est chaude Mon cœur est froid Mon chez moi fond Mon cœur se fige Le soleil d’été, les beaux jours dont on rêve dans les...