Story Behind The Song

In the Tradition of Storytelling from days of Yore

Song Description

A story of love lost then reborn

Lyrics

SongCrafter - Final Chapter ©2023 Creative InRoads, LLC

It was upon the third morning that the songcrafter broke from his meditation, returned to his writing desk, pulled out a fresh sheaf of paper, took pen in hand and let the words flow.

So many words, like a flood that washes clean the landscape that new seed might replace the old. So many memories, like a timeless dream where what was past and what is now no longer held separation. And, the music. If someone had been near, they would have heard a symphony played by a thousand angels. Deafening in its glory, soft and caring in its joy.

He was finished. Not only had he crafted what was to be their heart song. He also wrote their story. A story that would tell the tale of love once lost - now reborn. Only one more task lay before him. He must send this work to his beloved as he had promised. Then, he would seek out that place within where he could speak to his God.

I must now apologize to the reader. The words you have witnessed thus far, were indeed written by the very hand of the songcrafter. What you are about to read is part conjecture.

But, those of us who knew him, myself included, believe this to be the truth of what were his final days. And, as village historian, it is my solemn duty to complete the telling of his story.

The songcrafter set about his cabin, gathering all his works and writings. He neatly stacked each sheaf into a finely crafted leather binder. Taking a ribbon that had once belonged to the wedding dress of his young bride, he wrapped the leather binder to secure the contents and attached a note that read, "Please take this to my beloved. A promise must be kept."

Placing the leather binder in the center of his writing desk, he then gathered up all his stringed instruments and tethered them to his climbing pack along with a loaf of bread and some fruit. Working each arm through a shoulder strap, he hoisted the instruments upon his back.

Next, he put out the fire in his stove. Secured all the shutters over each of the cabin windows, walked out onto the porch and closed the cabin door. It would be most of day's journey to the top of his mountain, and the day was already late. Nonetheless, he stepped upon the path that would lead him to the ascent and his destination.

His mountain had a name amongst us villagers. We knew it as the "Great White Mountain" for it spent those many months from early Autumn until Winter's break covered deep in snow.

And, because night had already fallen as he made his climb, the songcrafter could not see the un-natural storm fast approaching his mountain. Even though Spring had come to call, dark gray clouds, the sentinels of northern wind, ice and snow were gathering around him - a dark and angry force.

Making the summit under nightfall, the songcrafter un-tethered his stringed instruments and placed them about the rocks so they had good support. He then played upon each instrument and sang a song to his God. But, not a song of longing as he had done for so many of his years. This was a song of thanks, of deepest gratitude and the celebration of his life's path.

The songcrafter sang for many hours until he could no longer escape the need for replenishment. To exhausted to eat, he lay down next to his instruments, closed his eyes and let his tired body fall into a deep and restful sleep.

The exact hour is not known, but while the songcrafter slept, Winter made one final assault on the mountain and its minions. By daybreak, twelve and six inches of snow had blanketed the rocks and slopes. By mid-day, more than twenty and three inches had closed off the high trail leading from the village to his cabin.

It was several days before we could make the journey to his encampment. And, upon finding the note and binder at his desk, we both dispatched a rider to carry the promise he had made and immediately gathered volunteers to mount our search up the Great White Mountain.

It was a long and arduous ascent. But, none in our party gave mention of the hardship. We knew it was too late, but still we hoped for a miracle. At the summit, we found his body and his instruments.

The word sadness or grief do not adequately describe the loss we felt. Here was our songcrafter and he was no longer alive. So, we carried him back down the mountain to his cabin. And, as was his wish, placed him in his bed with his instruments at his side.

While the good minister gathered the village about the cabin clearing, he reminded us all of the many marriages and loves that had been celebrated with the work of our songcrafter. Each of us in our turn sang the heart song that he had gifted to us and thanked God for the loved ones that made up our lives.

As dusk fell upon the mountain, the good minister ordered the pyre wood to be placed about the songcrafter's cabin. From the west came a most glorious sunset as none had seen before. Golds, purples, hues of blue and azure blazed across the sky as the sun slipped behind the shelter of the horizon.

And, when the first evening star appeared up in the heavens the funeral fire was lit setting the cabin ablaze. We all held hands as we watched a part of our lives become dust and ash. It was then that I noticed a woman standing just inside the clearing, silently watching as the fire slowly turned to ember.

She held a leather binder in her arms, wrapped with a ribbon that might have once been the adornment to a beautiful wedding dress. Behind her stood a young man holding the reins to a carriage. And, beside him, holding fast about his waist, was a beautiful young maiden.

As I approached, I recognized the woman to be the songcrafter's beloved. She had felt the need to return upon receiving our rider with his dispatch. I asked if there was anything I or the village could do. And, she replied, "No, he kept his promise. I just came to tell him thank you and to say my goodbye." That was the last time she visited our village or his mountain.

But, sadness is not what this story is about. Neither is it a tale of loss or love's sorrow. His story, their story is about redemption and revival - about the good in everyone's heart, about the triumph and joy of completing one's life path. To this point I give to you a copy of his final heart song. It is their heart song and proof that true love knows no limit and shall remain forever more.

Brave of Heart ©2023 Creative InRoads, LLC

Come walk with me just a little while
And tell me all your troubles
I won't judge who you are
You can rest your head on my shoulder

Come speak to me of all your dreams
We will mend the wings that are broken
And we will learn to fly
On the promise of love unspoken

Come lay your burdens all to bare
And I will light you a fire
To warm your heart with care
And reveal the Devil a liar

Now, lift your spirit up on high
You are strong and triumphant
Together we shall climb
Where the brave of heart live forever

'Tis almost time for us to part
Where ever our roads shall wander
Always in my heart
My friend and my lover

So, walk with me just a little while
And tell me all your troubles
I won't judge who you are
You can rest your head on my shoulder

Playlist Creator	Playlist Name	Date Added
Creative InRoads, LLC	PGO: in the Company of Ian Kenny & EHL	12/19/2023