A Forest Song

In the heart of the Great Forest, where the trees whispered secrets to the wind and the rivers hummed gentle melodies, every creature had a song. The wolves howled beneath the silver moon, the crickets played their nightly symphony, and the birds filled the dawn with joyous praise.

For as long as the forest had stood, its music was pure and harmonious, lifting the spirits of all who dwelled there. It was said that this music was a gift from the Great Creator, woven into every living thing—a way for the creatures to give thanks and rejoice in the beauty of life. But one day, the music changed.

The Noise That Stilled the Heart

A stranger had come to the forest—an old raven named Dusky, with feathers black as ink and eyes sharp as flint. He carried with him strange instruments, ones that did not hum like the river or rustle like the leaves, but clanged and screeched and rattled like a storm with no rain.

“Why do you sing such old, tired songs?” Dusky cawed. “The world has changed! The music of the forest is dull and simple. Listen to the songs I bring you—louder, grander, filled with new sounds!"

The animals, curious, gathered to hear. Dusky struck his instruments, filling the air with strange beats that pounded like restless feet, with shrill whistles that had no melody, with voices that spoke rather than sang. The rhythm was unnatural, the sounds hollow, yet something about it pulled at their ears.

“This is the way of the world now,” Dusky declared. “Sing no more of rivers and skies—sing of yourselves! Sing to be seen! Sing to be heard!”

The creatures of the forest, enchanted by these new sounds, followed Dusky’s teachings. The wolves no longer howled in unity but snarled discordantly. The birds abandoned their melodies for noisy chatter. Even the river, which once sang as it danced over the rocks, now rushed in a restless, unsettled flow.

But as the days passed, something strange happened.

The animals grew anxious. Their hearts no longer beat in harmony. The forest, once a place of joy, felt restless, disconnected. The crickets’ nightly songs no longer lulled the creatures to sleep but filled the air with unease. Even the trees, which had always swayed in tune with the wind, seemed to stand stiff and silent.

Something precious had been lost.

The Return of the True Song

One evening, as the sun dipped below the hills, a young nightingale named Lyra sat on a quiet branch, listening to the discord around her. Her heart ached for the songs of old, for the melodies that had once made the forest feel alive. Lyra closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to the Great Creator.

“Teach me the song You placed in my heart,” she pleaded.

And in that stillness, she felt it—a warmth deep inside, a rhythm as steady as the flowing river, a melody as soft as the evening breeze. And so, she began to sing.

Her voice rose, not in noise, but in praise. It was a song of light, of gratitude, of joy not rooted in self, but in the beauty of the world given freely to all. The moment her song touched the air, something miraculous happened.

The restless river softened, its melody returning.

The trees swayed once more, their branches moving with the rhythm of the earth.

The wolves lifted their heads and howled, their voices no longer divided, but united.

One by one, the animals remembered. The music they had abandoned was not old—it was eternal. It was not theirs alone—it was a gift from the Great Creator, meant to be sung in truth and harmony.

And as they joined together in song, the weight upon their hearts lifted, the unease vanished, and the forest once again pulsed with life.

Dusky’s Departure

The old raven, watching from a distance, cawed in frustration. “Fools! Why return to the old ways when the world has moved on?”

But the creatures of the forest only smiled, for they had learned a great truth: The songs of the world change and fade, but the song of the Great Creator is eternal. It does not seek attention—it seeks truth. It does not divide—it unites. It is not noise—it is harmony.

And so, Dusky flapped his great wings and left the forest, searching for others who would listen to his empty music. But the forest sang on, lifting its voice in praise, never again forgetting the song written into the heart of creation.

The Lesson of the Forest

From that day forward, the creatures sang not for vanity, nor for the approval of others, but to honor the One who had given them life.

And their voices, united in praise, rang through the forest, echoing into eternity.

So Be It!