Today I begin to write the end The End. Circles with points Arcs and chords that restruck I ask you to speak Speak with Indiscretion These are paths in the winds Winds that do not flow I ask you to walk Walk without restrain Now that all promises are made and some minds are ready to listen I want to tell you of mountains that speak and trees that hear These are stars that call to you Some waves that never go back I speak not of fantasy nor of circumstance I speak of that which we do not listen I speak of 'Life and Death' and those mended ideas that structure with time let us look together at a lost stone feel the words in its carvings Why are we so blind of our deafness These silent rhythms we do not listen