Wind Song

It starts very far away. Where the mountains slope down to the stormy sea Slowly, surely, it comes lilting here, That strange, wild music meant for only my ear, With that tang of adventure, calling out to me. It speaks in its gypsy tongue. Of unexplored places, distant lands unknown, Where that haunting music plays night and day, In the hazy hills and weather-beaten bays, And the high cliffs with faces of ancient stone. It tells me stories. Legends of creatures that dwell in the deep, And surface in times of perilous gales. Heroes whose deeds are woven in tales, And strange beasts hidden in drunken sleep. It shows me visions. Pictures of seas of the deepest blue, And untamed forests of towering trees, Grassy plains swept by a playful breeze, Sunlight on peaks of shadowy hue. It entrances me With its bizarre melody of elfin tunes, That tells me so much and yet conceals, Even lovelier visions in its crystal veil, Of velvet nights graced by a thousand moons. It beckons to me. Tells me to follow wherever it goes, Flying and drifting with a flair of its own, In a gentle, persuasive tone, To pursue the familiar path it knows. And I yearn to go. To travel to strange sounding places far away, Leave my monotonous existence behind, I tell it I now am in reality entwined, But I know I’ll freely follow the music someday.