Five flute-like notes unhurried, four silent spaces holding them apart and so uniting mountain top and sky. Sweet message, a cappella, harmonized by nothing but the wind whistling its nether key along deaf rocks. Cantata, measured, born in solemn minor key invading ever cautiously time's dawn. Musician! Herald! Sage! Your statement sung from peak to peak articulates in spare refrain truths you leave unsung.