Throughout the land a call sounds. The one's who hear are the one's who are bound. Within the distance the journey does call. Seeping into existence and remaining in the soul. Its within the smell of the night air. Lying inside of morning dew the call is there. From Oceans deep, mountain streams, and as the meadows gleam the resounding yearning follows. No escape! One day the followers will gather. One day the hearer will act. On that day a journey will be started. One thousand steps begin with one. This is not the call of time. Death cannot diminish the feeling. Explanations remain unknown, as something steady calls. Knowledge is in the mist of the rain. Up above where no man has ventured. Between the spaces of here and there. This is where the mystery calls. Within the heart of an open soul.