He lives where walls forget their purpose, sending signals only the forest seems to understand.
Listen
Lyrics
He lives in a house
that forgets it’s a house
Built from echoes and tin
and the hush of a mouse
No doors, just thresholds
No roof, just sky
He whistles in dots and dashes,
and time learns to reply
He sends his thoughts by rhythm
tapped on jars of air
The forest leans in sideways
just to say, “We’re there.”
A deer once blinked in code at him
A star blinked back at two
He logged each signal in a book
he never once read through
He whistled once at sunrise—
the moon fell out of phase
He whistled twice at memory—
and all the clocks gave praise
Pilgrims come with questions
He whistles out a storm
They leave with pockets full of sand
and truths that won’t conform
His breath bends like antennae
His lips are shaped by lore
His chest beats out a telegram
to someone who needs more
No name on the envelope
No stamp upon the sound
But if you hear a tune in beeps
you’ve just been written down
And if the wind replies at dusk
with static in its grace
You’ll know the hermit heard you—
and answered from his place
About this song
A lone figure whistling riddles to the wind, sending notes no ear can hold.
Return to: The Almanac of Impossible Folk