Anything Can Happen
The mountains are rugged and the clouds close in….
then…ahead…
the mists part and courage rises forth,
you are compelled to enter
for the sound of music
beckons to you.
There was a time… long ago… when speaking was a sacrament… a time before written laws and books and all the other little boxes Men have to put words into now.
There was a time when everything had a voice and a spirit… and it was of a wild nature… connecting all things without regard to matter or species… there were no boundaries between raven and woman and root and stream…
Spoken words carried weight in those days… perhaps it was the patterns of rhythm and sound… of music and poetry… what was spoken affected things for generations…
There were some in those days who spoke not of the world, but spoke it into being.
Those times seem to have passed away… yet every once in a while, something stirs those old times… and some words waken…and then, for that moment…
Anything can happen.
