A troubled boy asked his master,

“Why can’t I find my voice in the world?”

The master handed him a bamboo flute.

“Play.”

The boy blew into it.

No sound came.

“It is silent,” he said.

He turned it in his hands.

Small circles were marked along the bamboo.

“But… there are no holes.”

“Your spirit is like the wind,” the master said,

as he opened the window.

A fresh breeze entered, shaking the curtains.

“If you want it to express itself,

you must at least open the windows.”

The boy said nothing.

The master placed a small knife in his hand.

“Carve where the marks are.”

The boy hesitated…

then began to carve.

After he finished, he lifted the flute and breathed.

His breath passed through it —

and music filled the hall.