Und die Vögel singen nicht mehr

With the majesty of nature all around, one would think life is perfect. All about this land are verdant mountains. Less than an hour in any direction one can find sprawling farmlands, where the clouds roll by in the wide skies of blue. Here, the works wrought by man, tend more to glorify this setting rather than mar her further. And yet... at times, the weight of ages rests firmly upon my shoulders. The sun now hides, clouds cover the land, and rain falls heavy. Weh mir oh weh!

Though closer to this land than any other, I feel the pull of another. Through doors now closed, the gravity of the veil pulls fiercely. If for no other reason, this is reason enough that the gift of Sight is both a blessing and a curse. Glimpses of glory, bring light unto the soul, light made brighter by the darkness around. Did not great Cu Chulain, whom no one man could best, fall ill to soul loss after having loved the fairy lass Fand? This ferocious warrior who died on his feet having lashed himself to a mighty stone that no man may see him fall.

It is said that the shamans of old, saw what none other sees. Could tell you the portents of time by the rolling of clouds or even the symphony of nature. Achieved at last, what was once lost, nature in this man is restored. Seated outside the cabin in the river gorge, one can hear clearest.