From the cacophonous brush

In the din you'll hear a bird...
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In the roar of the wind and sea, the girl conducts the scene, pulling and rising the waves and wind to untwist the vines. In this, the bluebird is freed, singing over the busy scene and drawing attention to his distant goal of the bramble on another cliff. What else grows on that new shore is unknown, yet the bird still heads in that direction. With blind faith I fly from one tangle of life to the next, never knowing what the new will hold.