Chama Antiga

“Chama Antiga” is a song about a fire that was never lit, only remembered.
It opens in winter, with cold moving along the ground and bringing your name back with it.
Leaves fall. Time passes. And still, something refuses to leave.
At the centre is an old flame kept low in a bowl of ash: small enough to protect, old enough to outlast the hands that tend it.
The percussion holds the ground like a hearth; the voice becomes a drum; nothing here is loud, because what is ancient does not need to shout.
It completes the journey that moved through stone, horizon and water, and arrives at the only element that cannot be stored, only carried.
Fire passes from hand to hand or it goes out. So does memory.
Ancient Wisdom. Modern Spirit.