Rows of men and hollow mews
The cobbled hearth grows cold
The lights grow dim on life, on death
But landscapes breathe with embers
Futures draped in hollow dreams
Our cradle burned, for lies
Absence worn like a winter cloak
This future, our own making
Sing to the earth, not hollow mews
And feast with the folk thought lost
Turn slave to mindful wanderer
Turn mind to break the chains
Far from the empty house I fled
Shadows taunt my periphery
The solitude of silent halls
Left behind forever
Into the farthest forest I ran
A home before my time
I turned at a cry, and in her eyes
I lost myself forever
Sing to the earth, not hollow mews
And feast with the folk thought lost
Turn slave to mindful wanderer
Turn mind to break the chains
Sunlight, dappled, framed a shadow
The queen of the forest was waiting
Her hair hung like a gallows-braid
Wild life, wild death made real
In her eyes I saw a heron wading through rushes
In her laugh I heard a darkness that light never touches