Luyện nghe bài hát Song Of The Ancient

The song I perceive as I wander through the through the
dim light of dawn, lilts as it?s on soft shifting winds
the stillness of this early morn.

"Upon the hill, of the woods, the old man stood rapt in
gazing, contemplative and lost in himself. His old hands,
fingers and thin, but rugged, grasped the wooden staff. It
was familiar in his hand; crooked yet strong. How times?
How often had he before this stood on this very place, within
himself; rapt in reflection? A light breeze about him
ruffling his and wisps of beard, grey with age and wisdom of
years. He had much, experienced much and known friends
in the Lands. But that was before; before the Fall.
Glancing downward, a sea of activity, the forest with life
and lives. But lives are merely a doorway can be
the nature of the Ancient; the one who abides within
the Lands. The old man thinks 'I am become not what
was but through intent am become.' And so, in servitude
to heart, he made forfeit that which was his; the intangible
for the tangible, the for the mortal."

By now I am intoxicated by the of the tale, viewing
myself in the old man, and at it dawns and I realise the very
of mankind, and of myself, and I lay down to cry.

"In his youth, the Old man the Garensword, but not now.
And yet, the holds that one day, Man shall wield the
two-edged blade once more to the of nations and
strongholds and beyond this realm."

I raise my eyes as the comes to an end and a stranger
approaches as though she's a friend. her hand I accept
it and rise. Standing, she looks my eyes. "De-nyl, we have a
way to go. There is so much, too much, that I have to show you."

"If the is what you seek, it is only with the Ancient whose
face is seen. He remains within the Hidden Lands and may
only be reached with the in hand. Let us depart from this place."

I was relieved to learn that I would not be in my quest. For
that day, Destiny became my guide. I released my falcon, the
soaring and free above the forest canopy. And yet there
within my heart the lingering memory of that tragic Fall;
the wretched of mankind and of myself. Am I who I think I am?
Am I alive?