A dream awakening

As eyes close in the desire of animated colours and dreams spell a charm on them, somewhere a magic land awakens to a newborn light. Castles and cottages, wear a shade of slate blue and the eastern sky blushes with a reddish tinge. The magic-man plays on his flute then, a sweet tune. Flowers open their petals and peep out to see who that player is and how he plays such a sweet note. Birds happily come out of their shady nest in pairs and join in the sweet tune. And he plays on, as the sun kisses the horizon with a passionate reddish orange and the sky brightens with elated joy. In their togetherness, they brighten and morning shines through.
In the castles and cottages, eyes open and listen to the liquid music. They lie in their beds and the music seeps through their brains and soothe their souls. Some feel joyous, and want to run out towards a green happy day. Some feel the harmony and sing along a rustic line or two. Some turn towards their close ones lying beside them and hold them warmly close. They feel lucky enough to have loved ones, a family and God's grace. Some close their eyes again and the face of their beloved one swims before their eyes. They marvel at the inexplicable joy that fills their heart and also a stab of pain. A hundred words travel through their minds all desiring to be spoken -- to him, to her. The music plays on. Some lay tight on their bed as memories of their wrong doing grasp them tight and kill their souls. Some weep in remorse, some weep in lamentation and some weep sadly, all alone. Some little eyes go back to sleep as the music whispers a lullaby. Some sit up and thank the Lord and pray for happiness and peace for all and sundry. Mothers kiss their little children. The sun glows with a warm shine as lovers melt away.
But where is the magic man? Where does he brings his music from and what is he playing of? Is it the music of joy and love? Does it speak of the pain in his heart? Is he in love? Where does the magic lie? Where is the magic man? He is not by the river bank, nor in the shady haunt of the hills, nor in the garden of wild flowers in the meadows. Where is he then? And what song flows from his magic flute? Can you hear it dear reader? Do you know?