The passage of time
A whisper of wind
A budding violet in the woods
A vine creeping on an ancient wall,
Smooth, green shoots caressing cracked stone.

Stains and shadows
Hushed halls
A dusty page
In a once cherished book,
The bindings now loose

The whispering wind tells new stories,
New stories that link with the old
And create an intricate, mysterious, charming dance
Of life.
Whispers of light and shadow

Old blood, smoothed over
Green within the red
A new skin, a new heart, peeking out of the grass
They lift up their voice and add their whispers to the chorus
The pain is gone, the door is shut, the day has dawned anew.