If freedom was to to fall from the heavens
As brilliant orbs of light,
The people of the mountains would catch them first
And hold them closely to their hearts.

If you hold close to your heart
A treasure greater than life,
You will know death before separation,
And so you will hold it for your eternity.

You who think you rule over men
May put to paper any words you wish,
But they who live in the mountains
Will always be free,
And owe you, who know not
Of life's great struggle,
Nothing.

Old wisdom shines like light
Across the void of time.
Old words fight decay
From foolish minds.
Ages die like fire
From the falling rain,
As our patriarchs
Smile and become the Earth.

Fire and rain -
Strip me to my bones,
As I know my name
And claim my forefather's heart.

Fire and rain -
Wash the Earth anew,
As my forefathers and I
Rise from ashes.

This lake; these lands I stand upon,
Have and age - an epoch that can't be known.

They bear ancient names;
The only remnants of those here before.

I like to think that the ravens who come,
Bear their wayward souls back to this land they called home.
But likely these are only ravens,
And nothing more.

I like to think that every raindrop that falls here,
Are their tears returning home - that they may weep no more.
But likely they are only raindrops,
And nothing more.

I like to think after I yield forth my last breath,
That my spirit will join those ancient ones,
In song to our beloved mountains.
But likely that day,
We shall all be dust,
And nothing more

Many pass here, but few are to know.

Few live here.
They inherit a corner of this world
Sweetened by the absence of eyes upon it.

A microcosm can reflect a universe.
So we live; tiny lives in our forgotten town.
Let it be nothing to those who pass by,
For it is everything to me.

Over three days time,
My mountains, my beautiful mountains
Beheld immeasurable horror!

When men came to slaughter men-
My mountains beheld this-
When souls come to ashes,
And Death's roar loudens,
Life reduces to the value of lead.

When men came
The world beheld the slaughter
In my beautiful mountains.

When men came upon these fields,
Humanity darkened.
Old eventualities bore old mountains
In their witness.

When Death's roar loudens,
The last moments of men
Are borne in wrath, fear and shock.

Better of ten thousand
Spilled all their blood,
And my beautiful mountains
Became a place of horror.

Colossal things rose in my mountains;
Born of rocks and men.
They found within themselves a thirst for fire.
So followed many lands to take of my mountains
As monstrous works changed my land forever.

It was my land first
Where fire was found;
The essence of life long since gone.
The souls of a forgotten time
Were torn from the Earth,
And made to live again
As fire in the heart of a new age.

It was my land first,
Where cold eyes fell upon the mountains,
And monsters rose among them
-Nailed to the land-
To take of the mountains
While others were carved away,
And left to rot by monstrous men.

It was my land first . . .

Stands there a smaller city upon rivers.
In the mountains there, men forged steel under a ghastly shadow.

When the rains came,
Tragedy was forewritten,
For men had declared the river a lake,
And when the rains came, the river reclaimed itself.

No barrier built knows the truth of Earth, Water and Sun.

When eyes closed and Life laid down en masse,
The city, scarred and horrified, became a dire warning -
Remembered still by my people.

When the rains come again,
Will the next river break free

Here is a place haunted,
Where shadow and soul are one,
And the land hides the horror
Of those who ran - ran for the dignity of men.

All that remains are stones
And whispered memories
For hope also fled,
And so they died - they died for the dignity of men.

These are the unmarked graves
Of those our history has left behind.