Beautifull work about John Lennon Ridha... I love !
I am very happy to send to you an FTP access for download my full music catalog. (+ 260 songs themes).
With it, you can podcast my music... Thanks so much to send it to your friend for my promove it. Everybody know that I am searching for Filmmakers and TV Producers for my music. And for this, thanks for your help to promote my work.

Please use the FTP access above.

access >>>>>> ftp://mp3.euzet.com (paste it to your browser)

login >>>>>>>> f135806.mp3

password >>>> didiereuzet

I am searching a good music publisher, available to present my music to hollywood filmmakers and TV producers.

Have fun,

Didier EUZET
didier@euzet.com
Compositeur - Composer
6 rue de la Forêt - 83830 CLAVIERS - FRANCE
+33 (0)4 945 088 53 - +33 (0)6 432 528 79
+33 (0)6 596 957 49 - +33 (0)9 664 060 36
+1 (415) 830-3907
SKYPE: SECURISAT
www.euzet.com - www.euzet.biz - www.koursk.com
www.myspace.com/didiere - www.tecmusic.net
www.smoothyjazz.ning.com - www.oscarmelody.com

FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS.

When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;

Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlor wall;

Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more;

He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!

They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering bore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!

And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me,
And is now a saint in heaven.

With a slow and noiseless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays her gentle hand in mine.

And she sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.

Uttered not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,
Breathing from her lips of air.

Oh, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived and died!

- by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow