The Gods are chanting in lavender halls, a fragrant mist for gypsies and rebels of transformation. So too have their wayward souls arrived at this naked hour, like moths to flame they trade their hearts for cheap fortunes and wine, an empty promise for kisses filled with pepper.
One blink from this sculpture of ice and a sacred tear has fallen, a lonely drop of mercy in a pond filled with scum. Still now, my baying horse, for I have lost my compass. My heart has been trampled by thieves and bitter damsels. We ride now, onward. We follow ancient stars. They mingle with summer nights, the winking of fireflies and laughter are but a memory of yesterday.
Listen now to the shadows and darkness – witness the battered legions as columns of pine scrape the heavens, their towering loneliness known only to the wisdom of owls and wind. What path is this not taken, some holy mountain where trees have stolen our future.
Tonight I lay with bears and foxes, our hunger is equal, their bones are the marrow of fine earth. Perhaps they will watch over me, or perhaps they will devour my essence. Either way my destiny is futile, a lonely traveler in the valley of lost souls…