But then there is a silent witness
Beyond the shadow realm
Living quietly in the mountains
Lets his shakesbeard grow long
In the name of prose, poetry and song
Wolves howling in silver moonlight
Snow gently falling on misty forests
Fire crackling, flames dancing
The smell of mushroom soup
As the seasons come and go.
war cries of the mad wail in the distance
echo in misty forests like a fading memory
calling for someone i am looking
remind me of someone i used to be