Carried on the wings of Time.

As Languages fall through the air,

carried on the winds of time,

some fade, disappear,

become echoes of the way it was . . .

an echo we struggle to hear,

as we work on how it should be.

All the languages new and old hold power.

People learn and differ with them.

It is the lyrical key to the vault of volumes of knowledge,

kept in the magic of the voice,

in the retelling,

like a spell to conjure

…to learn.

You have to explore and engage

to find

in language is hope,

preservation

protection

tradition.

We need to speak out,

to be heard.

to keep it alive…

so life is not lost in translation.

📸Joel Robinson