Blue textures cascade downward to the base of the monolith
Like brush strokes on a canvas of souls
Two arms reach out a cloak of silent nihil
Revenants untouched by the scythe
They are lost in the dark woods of time
Aloft in the landscape that you hail
I am the fog that seeps over here in the early hours
Standing proud in the hollow of the land
A vestige of deeper purity etched in spirit against the sky
The menhir had runes carved in limbs of oaken sovereignty
And could see the ages growing from within the palms
I can feel the era slipping into oblivion
No longer grasping the textures
I am slowly becoming stone
As wolves celebrate the dusk
An old voice of wisdom haunts the vale
Shapes flicker in the fire light through the windows
The woodlands burn with grace
Their silence drowns the age
As wandering ghosts pass through the flames
A new age of rebirth lights the dawn
Like brush strokes on a canvas of souls
Two arms reach out a cloak of silent nihil
Revenants untouched by the scythe
They are lost in the dark woods of time
Aloft in the landscape that you hail
I am the fog that seeps over here in the early hours
Standing proud in the hollow of the land
A vestige of deeper purity etched in spirit against the sky
The menhir had runes carved in limbs of oaken sovereignty
And could see the ages growing from within the palms
I can feel the era slipping into oblivion
No longer grasping the textures
I am slowly becoming stone
As wolves celebrate the dusk
An old voice of wisdom haunts the vale
Shapes flicker in the fire light through the windows
The woodlands burn with grace
Their silence drowns the age
As wandering ghosts pass through the flames
A new age of rebirth lights the dawn
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