To the wind in the trees, the leaves as they softly whisper
Ah whisper unwise and profound things to me:
In this crazy world, words at times bind you
Instead of setting you free.
Listening, yes, I’m listening
Songs of wisdom, and sometimes liberty;
Telling me to leave pain behind
To seek another kind of identity.
Leaves move like soft and tender hands
Leaves whisper and sigh, sigh and so
I listen, yes, I’m listening
To their voices as the day drifts by.
Who do they speak to? To me?
Or to the stone tower and the sky?
Ah, if only I could decipher their voices
Their language and thus reply.
Listening, yes, I’m listening
Though I rarely did that well before;
Listening, as the wind is whistling high
Listening in silence once more.
