There is a whisper among the winter grass
And I, the listener, to how these moments pass
I walk the stations to where my passions lay
To hear vibrations of how the grasses pray
Here in the silence I feel a hardness end
Gone from the violence that I once held within
There is no wailing, no longer bitter screams
I am unveiling among these dry ravines
I watch the hills embracing honest trees
Where life sings still upon an arctic breeze
No stones to cast beneath the dust of sin
As clouds drift passed and cleanse my arid skin
The roads long gone, and stillness is my friend
A whispered song out where the dry grass bends