I heard a whisper on the wind
but not just the breath
that the wind usually breathes
but a voice and a song
a crying screaming song
a melody in flats and minors
any song could be deemed finer
than that
but a feeling, oh
a feeling, such
a feeling
a living in the feeling
the feeling of the brushing of the wind upon my face
and the sadness
and the sadness
and the crying screaming sadness
and it pried the frightful tears of mourn out from within my face
and the sun went down
as the wind died down
came a gentle weeping rain
to wash away the pain
