Those journals

that had the addresses of unseen birds –

journals where

were written the whispers of flowers

the mysteries of the mountains

and the voices of the mountain springs

the journals in whose bosom were entrusted

the exchanges of the sun with the seas

in which were inscribed

the intimacies of the birds and the trees

that illumined the tangles

of the origin our existence

those journals are lost

and the lexicon is now exasperated with us.