At the edge of a cliff lived a man who sang praises to the wind. What kept him alive was the desire to reach the ultimate dream of perfection which he hoped he might someday achieve. In a house built of stone and wood he prayed for answers while awaiting guidance in the colors of the sky, the formations of clouds, voices of streams. He lived alone, among the presence of many. Some of whom knew him by name, many names: Son, Brother, Husband, Father, Daddy. As close as they were he heard their voices from far away and faintly rising from the valley, coursing through the trees, ruffling the leaves and feathers of birds, like a wind fluttering softly through the caverns of his heart.