The Measure of a Song Capilla del Monte, Argentina In the garden come forth flowers; reach forth visions. Upon the autumnal rise of an increasingly reluctant sun, pour the poignant rays of life to which every creature on this land wills its dance; its first and last; and every step in between. Which song is this? This long breath of a season's magical touch, composing infinite colours from the chatter of parakeets, proposing grace for the feet and wings of all who accept the dance. Even for the stones which lie dormant and inert, these songs are duly remembered and treasured all the same, even without a smile or a step, basking in the measure of the sun. Where falls the sun, there sits the man beside the river, himself a shadow of a greater wisdom, knowing that nothing can be truly measured; only experienced. ! Copyright 2007, Tom Radzienda. !