Listen to the Wind

A quiet rustling is heard between the mountains.
It travels among the trees, surrounding eagles' wings.
The soft whisper of the stories remembered by the wind.
The memories of a world that once was.

It carries sounds and songs of old,
ashes of ancient cities that stood proudly against all odds.
Magical words that gave life to legends,
and reminders of a time when myths were new.

It knows the shadows of the warriors that fought for freedom,
the footprints of our people that laughed and cried over the same soil.
It has heard all the words of wisdom, heritage to the generation that followed,
and seen all the wonders that love can always make.

And so, it travels.
Bending throughout the land.
The same wind. The same keeper of the earth's soul.
Only with our hands can we pick those memories to build the future.
Only with our voices can we sing those songs again.
Only with our imagination can we remember those who were, and shape a better destiny for us and those who are to come.

LJS