Breathed into life,

song made of air;

Floating in and out of existence,

Such precious moments to share.


Like our stream of consciousness,

moving our heart and soul sublime;

Meandering notes a calling,

seeming beyond time.


On further with the mystics,

awaken, simple and clear;

The flute brings us to the threshold,

of the profane and the dear;


How can these sounds hold such power?

Why does it move us so?

To where does it return us?

Who dares to let us go?


These questions do not concern us,

when the flute plays itís airborne song;

This ancient one brings us there,

and carries us along.


Along to hear the sunset,

or listen to the birds;

Or witness love made into sound,

way beyond our words.


Time now to be enraptured,

and be taken to that place;

Where the Flute alone can take us,

to caress sweet Beautyís face.

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