ANCIENT FLUTE

Richard Hall

I was born before humans dreamed of walking this earth -   Born when my father, the wind caressed my mother,      the tree   And I am the dawn of music: -   The whistle of pines when the moon     brightens the snow covered hills   The rustle of leaves when a summer     breeze touches an aspen grove   The low moaning of late autumn winds     through the ragged bark of an ancient oak.   And now, as spirits dream the human song of life,   I am the gift that speaks     of their primal past,        of their ties to all that is -   The gift of wood from my mother,     The gift of breath from my father        The singing of the human soul           The healing of the human heart.     Written by Richard Hall of Chris ti Coom Flutes (www.christicoom.com) in support of the Crane Flute Project.  To see a photo of the Crane Flute, and to learn more about the Philosophy of the Crane Flute Series, please go to: http://www.christicoom.com/philosophy.html