Falling from grace

The sweet singing

The sweet wind

The sweetness of this land is a joyful place

But it shall not continue this way

The sound will halt to sound

The wind will cease becoming silent

And darkness shall fallow this depression of the land

But one will stand against all odds

This one will create noise

This one will course the wind to scream out loud in its agony which it has lived in silence

The sun will come out from its unending eclipse

The wakes of hell will be reborn into a heaven

And joy will be restored until the sound ceases to sound once more and return to hell.