Graceful, deft, the fingers dance,
upon damp earth, cracked yet vast.
Yet--will it bear fruit at last?

Boundless harmony entwines,
guiding softly through the night.
In dim-lit hush, you swore it right.

I shall tread though miles may call,
you shall reach with art so fine.
With the seed, I breathe anew,
with the melody, you enshrine.