The Final Song

His song was ancient and pure. The song of the wind and that of the moon. The Ancient ones cried when his music faded forever from their ears, and the children's dreams went sour without his lullaby.

In his music was contained the tales of all that ever was and a longing for what he knew was never to be. Never again was his kind to travel boldly and without fear across the great expanse. Respected and revered by all that heard his song or saw his shadow pass.

His song now a whisper, his bold step but a crawl, he gathered up his strength to cry one final call. He sang of sorrow for those who would never know and for those who knew too well that the song was meant to be.

When the song had ended and the echoes faded away, all eyes opened to what was lost.

Tears were shed and souls did go astray when they knew they had gone wrong, but no one stopped to think of these things... before the Final Song.

by Erica Simpson

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