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Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia

Voices In the Wind

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Voices In the Wind

Standing on the barren mountaintop the wind is like a whip.
Beneath me the turkey vultures soar by me once again.
Why do I feel I’m on the edge barely clinging by my fingertips?
Listening to the Voices In the Wind.

Oh, the contradictory clauses in the things we do and say.
I really think I’d fit in here, if I could only find my place.
While all the time we’re packing bags to go and search for better things.
Listening to the Voices In the Wind.

We always think we’re bulletproof, that nothing gets us down,
When just the faintest whisper sends our fortress crashing down.
And somewhere among the rubble—eternal truths are finally found.
Listening to the Voices In the Wind.

If you listen you can hear faint whispers of ones who walked these paths before.
And the wild calls to the wild; nature plays to a perfectly written score!
The trees all clap their leaves together: Bravo! Bravo! Encore! Encore!
Listening to the Voices In the Wind.

So I live today, reach towards the future, and I face Eternity!
Tomorrow sunshine, maybe shadow—does it matter anyway?
On some forgotten rocky tor, I’ll raise a bloody hand in Victory!
Listening to the Voices In the Wind—

My voice joins with the voices in the wind…

Raven Darkendale
© 4/25/06

Raven Darkendale is a Pseudonym used by Pendragon