There's a whisper on the wind.
A word, spoken in long ages past
Still echoes down the pathways of time.
There's a face behind the mask.
An image, formed from the ancient stone
Still haunts the deep places of the mind.
There's a story in the heart.
A tale, woven in the golden branch
Still speaks by the fire at night.
There's a song among the stars.
A tune, drawn from the minstrels harp
Still hints at the promise of light.