Stars above us wheel and dance, cavort and frolic;
In the plains the river sings a sunny tune.
Bree-hill looming breathes in deep and exhales clean airs;
Trees smile and wave while their birds softly croon.
Winds are gentle fingertips our cheeks caressing;
The land shines gold the silver of the moon.
Is the world filled with spirits
Echoing the joys of love back at us?
Or is only air and stone, sky and water?
In the end, is there any difference?
Places can be shaped by hate or horror,
But also they are changed by love and pleasure.
When sunshine reflects off a roof, light becomes heat;
When passion reflects off the world, love becomes joy.
