There’s treasure in the hills that hold us back
Too high to climb, so here we stay
Where crops burn in arid fields
We search for buried gold while our stores run dry...
Are you there, at the edge of vision
Just beyond sight, the grass around your body
Bent as a servant to a king
A voice of the river, breath is the rolling sea...
Eyes unblinking in the hollow of a tree
Dead branches reaching out to me
Inside the dusk that breathes through the forest.
Walk among the pines, light like raindrops on silver needles
A nectar not of the gods, forsaken long ago
Hold tight the paper hand
Follow the scent of dust and madness into the past
These black tunnels beneath the world
Where evil whispers it’s secrets.