It is a tenderly beautiful day of hushed breezes, windbrooms sweeping away the old and all that is worn down by sin, every little bud of wrong pried of its tethers and sent away.
It begins as a day of hope for a Light much needed and yearned for.
I hear the winds as they sing their mysteries, hushing yet lifting, placing hearts and lives within the Heart of the slain Lamb Risen. I sing and I sing and sing.
And then, for some minutes, the windsongs change their notes. In the briefest of minutes, a chilling in the gold~blue warmth through green welcomes. A hush of caution I hear.
I am led to a valley hidden, in the sundrenched blue of morning, where the winds sing differently for a wee while. They whisper their notes in my heart.
I hear the sound of a goodbye.
Something, somewhere will never be the same again.