Lond, lond, lond,the voice would reprimand, surging from the silence of the soft morning, and flooding your mind.
Wrong, wrong, wrong,you would hear, the solemn voice echoing with sternness in your head.
It made you feel ... bad. And perhaps, as you frown, you hear more.
Eip tolk yia lire ali vina, kien yia af an liken.You hear it, and it nudges you. You are close, so close to what you seek. You can feel it, the way it pulls you. It draws you to a familiar place, so close to where you are ... and yet ...
I told you where to go, but you do not listen.
Will you listen this time?
The wind pushes you toward the North.
It shoves you in the direction that you need to go.
Do you ... listen ... this time?