What started as wind, now opens to sky.
The conversation no longer whispers.
It confronts.
It circles.
It waits to be met.
It confronts.
It circles.
It waits to be met.
She doesn’t just listen now.
She answers —
Not in words — but in the quiet language of it all.
She answers —
Not in words — but in the quiet language of it all.
The air is alive —
and we're hearing the same song.
and we're hearing the same song.
This is Ushana.
One with song.
