Haunted

Our lives are but a cry in the Void....

	He howled for milk; he howled for his mother. He howled because his feet were
swaddled so that he could not kick or put them in his mouth.  He howled because the
moon shone too brightly on his cradle.  He howled because he simply enjoyed the sound
of his voice, too long silent in the murky womb.
	And because he howled, they called him Cu.

Our lives are but a cry in the Void....

	As he grew, he learned to listen, and found more magic there than in his howling: 
he listened to the birds and learned their secrets;  learned there was so much more to them
than feathers.  He conversed with the bees and learned their songs;  their dances.  He
listened to the rain and understood its sorrow.  He listened to the hills and learned who
lived beneath.
	And because he listened, his parents feared for their child....

Our lives are but a cry in the Void....

	And then she came, and he sat at her knee, and he learned.  She was beautiful and
mysterious with her long white hair and ice-laden eyes.  And she sang to him sweet songs
and sad, angry songs and songs full of joy.  And in time, he began to sing with her, his
voice a high, keening wail that was ethereal and unnatural.  It was an Otherworldly sound,
trembling in the air, that haunted and enchanted all who had ears with which to hear.

Our lives are but a cry in the Void....

	Acheing and endless were the songs he sang, of love lost and gained;  of life cut
into the quick by faith, by hope, by logning.  From his larynx, dreams flowed forth,
weaving themselves into visions that hung in the air--apparitions of sound.  And always,
the Lady was there, and he at her feet, singing to the stars as she stroked his hair.
	And because he sang, he became her boy.

Our lives are but a cry in the Void....

	High on the air of night, her voice came through his window.  It wrapped itself in
midnight and crept into his bed;  touched cold fingers to his temples and soothed his
fevered head:

�Hush now, child,
Do not cry--
Let death come without mourning,
Wrap yourself in the night;
Take comfort there.

Hush now, child,
Don�t you cry--
Walls come down that we might see,
Wrap yourself in the night;
Take comfort there.�

	Burning tears ran down his face as he burrowed himself in her words as if they
were blankets drenched in ice.  And he keened into the night, just sound, no words.
	And as he keened, his mother�s soul followed the sound into the Dark....

Our lives are but a cry in the Void....
Our lives are but a cry in the Void....