The ancients believed that auspices, the omens taken from the observed behavior of birds, foretold the future. These signs were meticulously recorded and interpreted, believed to guide leaders and decision-makers. Yet, how strange it seems today, that the flight of a pigeon could shape the destiny of a city.
Looking back, one might argue that the real prophecy lies not in the soaring wings of birds but in the hollow reverberations of unfulfilled promises echoing through time. Each flapping wing a metaphor, each silence an unspoken truth.
In the modern world, where logic and technology dominate, such auspices bear a hollow truth of their own. They remind us of moments in history when decisions swayed by divine or natural signs seemed grand, yet their grandeur lay in their mystery, not in their outcome.
As we ponder these hollow auspices, we realize that the real sign is the absence of sign, a space from which we project our desires and fears. In that void, the past calls out, a whisper of what could have been, a sigh of what will never be.
For further contemplation, wander into The Unsaid Manifest or explore the Murmurs of the Void.