It is extraordinary how music sends one back into memories of the past.
(George Sand)
Can you hear it?
The song woven
in the wind,
whispering
through the threads
of time,
calling
you back
to the stars.
Since the first dawn,
before breath knew lungs,
before rivers carved
the bones of earth,
it has sung your name,
in the hush,
between heartbeats,
in the silence,
behind sound.
You are not lost.
You have only forgotten.
But the song remembers.
Can you feel it?
The drum
of an ancient
heartsong,
pulsing
through
the marrow
of your being,
stirring
the embers
of a fire
that never
died.
Beneath
the weight
of names
not yours,
beneath
the veils
of forgetting,
it beats.
A rhythm,
older
than flesh.
A rhythm
that is
yours,
that is
you.
Close your eyes.
Breathe.
Let the drum speak.
Let it carve
its wisdom
into your bones,
etching
forgotten
prayers
into
the
spaces,
between
your
ribs.
You are
the echo
of stars
long fallen,
a river
remembering
the way
to the sea,
a spark
flung
from the hands
of the divine.
You are not
lost.
You are only
remembering.
Listen.
The song
is calling.
And it has always
been calling.
Since
the beginning.
And now,
beloved one,
will you sing?
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