The song rose sweet and pure above the softer melodies of moonlight and rustling leaves. As fine fabric it was woven of joy and peace, falling on the eager listeners with crystalline perfection on its way through the forest.
It was without words, containing in its melody the quiet wisdom of the trees, the soft joy of flowers turned to face the sun, and the exuberance of the young at play. This voice, raised in praise, was a gentle farewell and a loving welcome, the unity and the blessing of all things beautiful and mythical, of the soul of life that transcends all of us.
And while I sang these gentle passions in a song long lost, I was loved and felt it, by trees more ancient than thought and youthful flowers as bright as stars. Perhaps even loved by you, should you come to remember it. |
