There was once a time where Silence was a valued commodity. Where stillness of the day and the night could be embraced and feasted upon as a great banquet.
There once was a time when one could travel into the wilderness and listen to the songs of creation. The whispering breeze dancing in and out of the tops of trees or the gentle wind waltzing through the tall grasses of the Meadow. The ancient song of the fowls great and small and the babbling brook, the roar of the waterfall and the rumble of thunder in all its wonder and mystery and the absent din of humanity.
There once was a time and there was once was a place but they have all but vanished; for mankind on the whole fears the Songs of Creation, for it reminds them of their true place and that there is a Creator greater than them.