Echoes fall like raindrops on leaves of lonesome trees
Whispering to the heartless
Come and listen and you will hear their sound
Calling softly
To the darkness

A rustling in the underbrush stirs an unknown need
Curiosity feeds upon the now
The crescent moon is waiting for eyes yet to see
Wondrous visions
He will soon endow

Wheels begin to turn in the mind of the present
Defying the light and the sound
Though their ears hear the echoes, still is the absence
Of the hearts recognition
Of the found