FIVE 'BIRDS'

Missive #5 - Vision Description

This vision from March has come up seven times in the last few days, to mind and in conversation, and so I feel moved to share it with you all today.

[While writing in the morning, I am transported to a round meadow-like clearing, ringed by woods, where the following vision takes place directly above/before me] Received 3/25/2023 | ~10am

Five immeasurably large birds or winged beasts appeared, one each from every direction:
A star-strewn two-horned eagle with a wish-fulfilling jewel on its brow dove down from beyond the sky's roof/veil, its limitless body dressed in twinkling silvery light and richly colorless void;
From deep in the south emerged a bright-burning molten bird of fiery magma, world-melting in its midst, the skies behind it glowing everywhere a dark ember red;
A giant dark-brown bird came down from the north, deep as night and many mountains wide, bolts of lightning arcing back from its feathertips and torrenting icy sheets of water falling as walls beneath its wings;
A long emerald feathered serpent with orange mane too came forth, whose slithering body and gaping jaws were themselves the very shape and far-reaching bounds of the western sky;
And from the east, a great crowned bird rose with shining gold wings, the warm-rayed sun rising up along its back.

All five came together in a collision of cosmic scale just overhead, whirling powerfully into the shape of one tightly woven ball. The great birds and feathered serpent of the five directions transformed into rivers of searing light swirling in and around each other, in fluid kaleidoscopes of color and shape.
The ball shrunk then to the size of a tiny pearl, and, after one quiet moment, exploded outward in a wave of impossibly dense air, blasting everything around it to ash. The ash turned to sparkling fragments of light, which in turn became seeds.
Settling into the barren empty earth, the seeds rapidly sprouted up to become the very same plants, and flowers, and great towering oaks, pines, maples, cedars, cypresses, and everything else green and growing, just as it had been before the catastrophe.
The world exhaled at last, as if it had been holding its breath for a very long time, and a warm gentle breeze moved playfully about the clearing, moving branches and blades of grass as one renewed whole.
Almost as if nothing had happened at all.

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Hilma af Klint, Group IX/SUW, The Swan, No. 7 (1915)

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