In search of primitive voices

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Left to wind and wilderness,
Left to the mercy of countless seasons,
Among these endless dales
Lived our ancestors.
And the skies roared unto their chests,
Seasons chiseled their life.
Nature tempered their winds
And the springs brought in waters of life.
Nature presented a corporeal voice,
They listened to her with the deepest heart.
Poetry was born out of it,
Language was born out of it.
From the caves unto these modern times
It was toil of countless centuries.
And upon the wings of time
Man left the bickering streams and ancient caves.
Now the winds are in a long search,
The ancient caves wait for their return.
But a solemn silence is the only answer,
A whispering brook is the only voice.