It is extraordinary how music sends one back into memories of the past.

(George Sand)

Can you hear it?

The song woven

in the wind,

whispering

through the threads

of time,

calling

you back

to the stars.

Since the first dawn,

before breath knew lungs,

before rivers carved

the bones of earth,

it has sung your name,

in the hush,

between heartbeats,

in the silence,

behind sound.

You are not lost.

You have only forgotten.

But the song remembers.

Can you feel it?

The drum

of an ancient

heartsong,

pulsing

through

the marrow

of your being,

stirring

the embers

of a fire

that never

died.

Beneath

the weight

of names

not yours,

beneath

the veils

of forgetting,

it beats.

A rhythm,

older

than flesh.

A rhythm

that is

yours,

that is

you.

Close your eyes.

Breathe.

Let the drum speak.

Let it carve

its wisdom

into your bones,

etching

forgotten

prayers

into

the

spaces,

between

your

ribs.

You are

the echo

of stars

long fallen,

a river

remembering

the way

to the sea,

a spark

flung

from the hands

of the divine.

You are not

lost.

You are only

remembering.

Listen.

The song

is calling.

And it has always

been calling.

Since

the beginning.

And now,

beloved one,

will you sing?