Listen to the chirring of a cricket, the buzzing of a bee. The wind in the grass, the shell against the ear.
Hear the bell in the tower, the ocean on the strand, the babbling of the brook.

Listen afresh to the pipes' lament, the guitar's blues, the fiddle's jig and know that music for the ear is created by the musician's love. To create order from chaos is the musician's delight, for it is said that when the music stops the chaos returns.

With a musical branch of silver bells, and bearing the three golden apples of wisdom, the gods mark our entry into the Otherworld.

So, may the cares of the world dissolve in the mists of oblivion. For at the brink of sound a word is found - shining, shining at the sound of a bell.