Stay silent and
listen to the sounds of the wind, and the whispered stories of the
forest that surrounds you. Mighty tales that have long been forgotten
and now only the winds know.
May they be the heroic tales of a man
who upholds great honor or gains a mighty prize. A tale of bravery
and courage and is a man for what most see as man they wish for all
to see.
Or may the tales be that of sadness. Of the broken hearts
that pieces have blown with the wind. The sadness of great loss the
feeling of never seeing one of which you love again. Or of the great
betrayal of one who you trusted to tell all to, the one to which you
unburdened your heart to.
May the tales be that of history. Tales
that speak of both great and horrible battles. Of the great and
terrible ones that fell at the blades of their slayers.
These are
the stories that have filled the air for generations. The stories of
time, unchanged. These stories are for those who listen to the wind
and hears it ancient language. The stories are there. For those who
care to listen and understand.
