For Howard Shore

It is not often in this life we find
Treasures such as this.
Refrains that enter the depth of the soul.
Guiding the journey of the eyes;
An interweaving dance with images.
It takes the listeners by the hand,
Leading them through the dream.
Delicately soaring,
Lifting us into a clear night sky until
Clarity of stars burns our eyes with tears.
Pounding in the depths,
We draw close to anxious hearts
And know the strength of an enemy greatly feared.
The gift of a soul given to a story,
Reaching the heart where language
Or picture alone cannot -
The music gives wholeness, makes it complete.
The sweetest of tongues can only use
Wordless song to truly tell of it.

It turns in our minds and hearts
As a finely cut gem in the hand of the jeweler.
Its many facets gleam and flash with beauty and fear,
Friendship and bravery,
Peace and horror,
Unbearable grief.
It bears the glitter of unfathomable eternity,
Soft tones of home-longing weariness,
The depth of history, the ravages of power;
Overwhelming monuments to past glory,
And heartbreaking sacrifices of Now.
Set in the finest filigree of love -
By the hand of the craftsman,
Catching every ray of light.
The beat of the lifeblood of the story.

We honor you, Mr. Shore.
For the giving of your practiced touch;
The labors of your heart and hand
That grace this much-beloved work.
We thank you.

- Primula