The Return

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Sierra Maestra

Remember

Sundown

In another time another place
We measure our progress through our disgrace
And danced in the halls knew who we were
Escaped the race and gave it away

Now we are set and running late
Hard to believe we lived so free
Bent in the way -the branch swings
Caught in the grace of the Byzantines

Mosaic of color helps escape
The beauty of art starts taking shape
Inspiring those from under its wing
this modern world is fleeting 
remembering days of creating
Byzantine dreams run through my head
Sometimes  I live there instead
 Beautiful locks of abstract gold
Perfect icons and frescos 

Living off the dreams of the Byzantines

Dreams of the Byzantines

There and Back Again

Chapter 1-3 (https://shorturl.at/Kv6K1)
Chapter 4
Mist still clung to the earth as the father and daughter descended from the ridge, the gleaming city now behind a veil of soft cloud. This valley was unlike the haunted one they had crossed—no growls, no flickering eyes. Here, silence reigned, not with menace, but with mystery.

A sound floated through the mist. It was delicate and searching—its voice rising and falling like wind over dunes. The girl paused. “What is that?”“An old sound. It means someone is here.”
They followed the music deeper into the valley. The path was overgrown but not wild. Vines embraced ancient stone walls etched with symbols. Towering sculptures stood half-buried in earth and time—guardians of something long forgotten.
Soft rhythms joined the mysterious melody, barely more than a pulse beneath their feet. It was as though the valley itself breathed, alive with memory.They walked on in reverent silence.
Still wrapped in the valley’s quiet awe, they moved forward, the melody guiding them toward whatever lay ahead.
Chapter 5
The first tremor came through the ground—a low thrum that rolled through the soles of their feet like the heartbeat of the earth. Then came another, stronger. The girl stopped mid-step. “Do you feel that?”
Before the father could answer, the sky filled with sound: thunderous drums, layered and immense, beating in rhythm like giants marching across the heavens. The air itself pulsed with it. They climbed a low rise of stone and brush, and then they saw it.An army.
It marched in perfect formation, stretching like a living river across the open plain below. Rows upon rows of armored warriors moved with synchronized grace. Their weapons shimmered gold in the diffused light—long spears, curved blades, massive shields engraved with symbols that echoed those carved in the valley walls.
The drums continued, unrelenting and vast, their beat not one of chaos, but of discipline and intention. The girl’s eyes widened, not with fear but awe. “They’re protecting the city.”
“Yes,” her father said, his voice hushed. “This is no army of conquest. This is a wall of living honor.”
He watched the formation, noting the way each soldier held themselves—upright, steady, eyes forward. There was strength here, but not reckless strength. It was the strength of guardianship, of quiet, deliberate power.The girl leaned into him. “They don’t look like they want to fight.”“They don’t,” he replied. “But they will, if they must.”
The wind shifted, carrying the scent of the city once more—spiced air, warm stone, something older still. And through the towering sound of the drums, a single, higher note sang faintly in the distance, threading the thunder like a voice in a storm.
Together, the father and daughter watched the golden army pass, silent witnesses to a force both fearsome and noble, standing between the world and something sacred.
Chapter 6
The drums faded into distance. The golden army vanished into mist. And in their place came a wind—warm, gentle, and full of memory. It swept through the valley like breath from the earth itself, curling around the father and daughter.
As the melody grew bigger, the wind swirled upward, lifting her feet from the earth. Her eyes closed, arms outstretched, as the warm air carried her higher, the notes cradling her like wings. She felt something stir inside her—not fear, not even excitement, but knowing. The journey had shaped her. She had seen mystery, wonder, danger, awe. And through it all, she had learned to trust her feet, her breath, her heart.
The wind grew brighter, lighter. The air itself seemed to dissolve, and her eyelids grew heavy. When she opened them, she was home.
Her room was quiet, the morning light soft on the windowsill. Outside, birds called gently. The journey was gone—but not lost. 
She turned her face to the window, eyes filled with wonder . And in the quiet of her heart, a voice spoke and she smiled...

Read the story here!

There and back again Part 1_6

Inspired by Sergei Rachmaninoff Op.3 No.1 Elegy 
Her gaze fixed, her wisdom boundless ...wise as a serpent and harmless as a dove
Compare: https://youtu.be/nFcuZK_Xu7c?t=290

Wise Yet Harmless

Legend Of The Skies(Radio Edit)[Rice Bowl Recordings][Available 7-25-2025]

Always Been Enough (Full Version)

OXIDE EDEN - Title

Smart Dogs (Kula Shaker)

In addition to SC - tracks available on 
Spotify: http://bit.ly/3sGsCG8
iTunes: https://apple.co/2RAe9DU
Apple Music: https://apple.co/40TPePO
Youtube Music: https://bit.ly/40Uky0W
Amazon Music: https://amzn.to/3QZhU5C

Composing using PC, Cubase Pro, Reason and various orchestral libraries among others. Focused mainly on orchestral, atmospheric, cinematic soundtrack style.

For licensing queries and commision work contact Sturle on Sturlestrausscomposer@gmail.com

There and back again Part 1_6

Sturle Strauss Lisaeth-Composer