The Wood

Wind plays in the leaves
Golden light reflects upon autumn rust
Like childhood dreams
Old stories of woodland paths
Ancient songs
The ones of ancient times
Silent lullabies

Angels sing upon low grey clouds
Showing you a path in the dark night
Among the trees higher than moonlight

You run among the trees in a shape of a wolf
Like you’re haunted but you are alone
Only midnight looks down at you with the eyes of the moon

Wind plays ancient lullabies
In golden leaves
Silver light sparks on lake mirror waters
Silent melodies through the dwelling waterfalls
Where a song of time still lives
Beyond the drops of all old times

Run and sing
For every song to dwell
Run and breathe
Life into every tale
As the wood makes every story live

Wind plays in fire-red hair the songs of old
Hear them now as you hold my hand
Sing with me this woodsong
Before the sunrise breaks through and writes the end
Of every tale…