I saw a happy man playing a lute, strolling along the outer edges of the crowd. It seemed he had a small following, as a caravan of people walked along steadily behind him. I drew closer, and I could hear the singer more clearly:

"Words, a simple song a minstrel sings, a way of life in his eyes. Where the minstrel sings this simple song he's always bringing, singing love. Listen to the one who sings of love. Follow our friend, our wandering friend. Hear the nations sing our minstrel's song as he walks by in their lives. Soon the spring will come, and everyone will all be singing, bringing love. Everywhere, love is all around." The man exuded happiness. His bouncing curls, twinkling eyes, and shining smile all betrayed a deep contentment like none I had seen since before the blue darkness. I was entranced and couldn't help but join his band of followers.

He continued: "My world is spinning around. Everything is lost that I found. Working, living, it brings only way to have those things. Toiling has born too many tears. With the eyes of a child you must come out and see that your world's spinning round, and through life you will be a small part of a hope of a love that exists. People run, come ride with me. Let's find another place that's free. Turn around all those past years." When he stopped singing everyone applauded and cheered.