Thursday, November 10, 2011

beautiful and blended with immeasurable sorrow


Cry like a baby every time.



To the sea, to the sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling,
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressea, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people forever--J.R.R. Tolkein


Love it.
How can your soul not be pierced with gladness when Gandalf says "white shores, and beyond" and the violins start playing the most mournfully glad tune you've ever heard.
The awe-ful thing about that song is that it makes you want to be a part of its music. It calls to you, and you want to completely soak it in, absorb it, become one with it. It's so beautiful, and all your soul longs for- needs- need is to join in it's beauty.
It fills your heart with longing for the white shores you've never seen.
But one day you will. And that's the promise that the music sings to you.
One day, we'll be there.

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