A girl, she sits alone on a shore, covered in the dark veil of the night. At first only the soul of the stars light the way back home, to the little village, an organ of the body of the Byzantine Empire. Rags from all sorts of cloths cover her small figure of a body, each a different color: blue, black, grey and some white. In her small white palm, between her little fingers is a small pile of snowflakes for eating during the dark, warm summer night. If she eats it, she will forget the ones who cared for her all her life but, if she doesn’t she will starve to death. The girl looks up from the rags and search for the man shinning his soul upon the dark wrinkles of the old mother earth. She only finds the portals of the past, still replaying their lives as if they will one day become alive once more. The wind plays it song and dance around the girl, letting her hair flow around along with the song. Two waterfalls start to form under her eyes, soon roaring down her small rosy white cheeks as she plays back the events in her spirit eyes. In those eyes, smoke fills the night sky as bright suns burn the small wooden hut like it was a small candle, soon burning itself to death. Screams filled the suns and smoke but, they weren’t cries for help, it was cries of anger. Villagers gathering around the small wooden candle to hear and see the cries of anger. But, way was it only cries of anger, not cries of sorrow or to help? The memories of that night pierce her heart deeply, making her cry out in pain as if it was her punishment for the dreadful night at the small organ of the Byzantine Empire. She lets out one finally cry towards the man in white who always shine his soul upon the earth. Her eyes close slowly as her small body lays itself on the sand shore of the lake so her face can look upon the dark shallow portal, where everything is reflected and mocks the true figure. Her ears listen to the song that all things sing: “The Song of Life” even when her mouth is shut tight, she sings “The Song of Life” to the world.