Loreena McKennitt
The Book Of Secrets

THE REVIEW

She wanders through golden fields touched by dawn, her gaze a bit lost, dreamy and deep. A cascade of amber hair illuminates her with a rarefied, fairytale aura. Modest but regal clothes dress the frail and bony body of a woman marked by countless journeys and the anguish of a tragedy that can only be glimpsed in those indecipherable and mysterious eyes. She roams, elusive and silent, ethereal like frost; she moves through the fresh mist; she smiles, and sings melodies of yesteryear: suffering and nocturnal melodies, radiant and warm, ancient, yet so touching.
    
The Book of Secrets – Loreena sets her contemplative prologue to music, alive and pulsating; a solemn and cadenced rhythm carves the path of a journey that will see no conclusions. Loreena sings, she sings in a dance that smells of spring, deftly she drags you and gently cradles you.

“The waves will wash my tears,
the wind, my memory.
Now take the hourglass, and turn it over:
because when the sands stop
only then will you find me lifeless.”

There is a scent of resin in that voice, in those wise and enchanting verses. There is the exquisite melancholy of a lifelong wander, spent alone exploring the world in its colors and sounds and silences. There is the philosophy of an indefatigable traveler. There is peace, and nostalgia.

“Find answers, and ask questions;
find the roots of the ancient tree.
Take me as I dance, as I sing;
I will travel, until the moon meets the sea”

Loreena travels on a train bound for who knows where, and in front of her feverishly rush past woods fields flowers houses cities seas and lakes and mountains and dawns and dusks. Loreena travels and travels, and her memory elegantly slides on the staff. She paints refined notes, luxurious, angelic.

“In the veil of darkness
in the shadow of silent trees
they watch, they wait
and witness the mysteries of life”

And at dusk, when the light sinks with the sun, her hands come together sternly in a prayer of misery and humility: and she recalls faded passions, indelible pains barely softened by the catharsis of a piano. A cloak of strings and choirs fades away, evanescent, among the tears. Loreena disappears, into the night silence.

The last pages of the book remain empty, white. New secrets, new paths, and new stories await among those pages; and the journey will have no end.

“Cast your gaze upon the ocean
lay your soul on the sea,
when the dark night seems endless,
please, remember me…”