Dnt drag d ignorance of d past into d present or u'll be more ignorant than d people that lived in d past

I'm the voice, Outside in the night Audible and distinct, Rising above all noises. I'm the vision, Outside in the light, Clear and perfect, Searching the faces from the crowd. I'm the tree, Creaking in the wind, Twisted and stubborn, Reaching for the sun. Must i weep for the branches that withered? Or the leaves that fell when im springing up anew? The branches are cover. The leaves are veil. How would you know me? Except the veil be removed.

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