There is something peculiar in the way the light is being spread

There is something peculiar in the way the light is being spread.
As dawn keeps breaking, a smudge of warmth from those rays begins, faintly, to seep in. The deepest darkness the night could wring out begins to yield to a different energy.
First, as if preparing the way, an era took hold.
New Age, they said. New Age, we heard.
In those days came currents of change. of hope.
Yoga, they said. Meditation, we heard. Entheogenic medicines appeared.
An explosion of experiences found room in a world brought into focus by the media. Many failures, many clashes, many falls, and many successes. A book of possibilities opened, wanting to change the destiny of humanity.
Among us, who learned in schools, who were baptized, taught, indoctrinated, lulled to sleep, a fresh dampness of life begins to be felt. A breath arrives that silences the snoring and switches on the senses, ready to enjoy a new day.

But the New Age grew old.
The first forces of an awakening were sown at a depth no current could ever reach.