The magic of life The wind shall know your name but no one else. The harp cannot sing devoid of nothingness. On their own, the wood and strings and cells of men are dust. But the stars play symphonies, and the dream rustles forests with its breath. The day is not new. This sun has blazed before. See, it glimmers on your bones, on the same boulder you dragged uphill yesterday. The same ring of fire circles your heart and mind, and the universe of desire outlives you. Therefore, you are also the strings the chaos of will sings through,…