A whisper of wind through hollowed wood,
The flute sings truths not understood.
With fingers dancing, nimble, light,
It weaves the soul into the night.
A shepherd's tune on distant hill,
Its call commands the world stand still.
Through valleys deep and skies above,
The flute hums tales of grief and love.
In tender hands, it softly pleads,
In stormy breath, it plants wild seeds.
A voice unbound, both sharp and sweet,
It guides lost hearts to steady beat.
From echoes of an ancient past,
To modern stages, bold and vast,
Its music, timeless, pure, and true,
A bridge from old to something new.
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