Whispers of Palms

In the whisper of palms,I embark upon a celestial voyage. My vessel, woven from the threads of ancestral dreams, glides through cosmic tides. Each star above is a breadcrumb, and every constellation a map etched in stardust. They guide me back to the heart of the horizon, where the sun tenderly kisses the ocean’s cheek, leaving ripples of memory in its wake. The wind, a master storyteller, weaves ancient tales into my sails. Its breath carries echoes of ancestors, whispering, “Child, remember the rhythm of our shores.” There, time dances barefoot on coral sands, leaving imprints that stretch across epochs. I yearn for the fale, its thatched roof a guardian against storms and shadows. Laughter echoes within its walls, like seashells caught in the breeze. The fire dances, casting flickering silhouettes on the sand, as if the spirits of old join our twilight feast. Samoa, you flow through my veins like a compass guiding me across distant seas. Your mana, your manaia—the essence of nobility—remains imprinted in the rhythm of my heartbeat, in every breath I seize. I am a voyager returning to your warm embrace, where salt-kissed air cradles my soul. In this merging of past and present, I find myself anew. Fa’afetai tele, Samoa, for the enduring whispers that bind me—steadfast, pure, and eternal.