Inspired by the poem "The Peace of Wild Things" by the American poet Wendall Berry.

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

The Peace of Wild Things

“A painter paints pictures on canvas but musicians paint their pictures on silence.” -  Leopold Stokowski

A member of Cellar Door which you can find here: https://soundcloud.com/cdoor

"The most powerful and magical language is music. The reason for this is that music is the original language. Music is not ornamented poetry, and poetry is not ornamented prose. Poetry is fallen music, and prose is fallen poetry. Prose is not the original language; it is poetry made practical. Even poetry is not the original language; it is music made speakable, it is the words of music separated from their music. In the beginning was music." (Peter Kreeft, Philosophy of Tolkien)

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