An iron bird awakes to sing nearby its nest whose fragrance is sponsored by a colloquial moon. We could all be the movers and shakers of a good insight of beauty in the shining silence of human fate. To glue silence and to paste him into to the fading elements of discussion like birds, cats, pigeons, stars, plants, rocks, we all are beloved in the innate inner speech of the birth event which proceeds with ruins of a large sum of silenced fights. Motivation to this awake will take its steps in time, a certain refrain out of futility and inside the swimming thoughts which are electric sparks, jingling love signs to guaranty the future of our affect. We the triangle of ties and organized sleeping time as we date our fury all along beauty, to make it possible for time to be high above the indigo élan of days where the gestures are one possibility to be memorized into the look for love and only this energy is the royal moral of all existence. As certainty iron birds tend to coexist with the television skies in this digital age whose features are ferocious, denying to peasants to attend the soin.