Over the sands seagulls screech and call,
Where the blue waters gleam,
The battering waves slap and fall,
To break a pebbles dream.
The vast wet shores do girdle hills,
High steep and ancient,
And the sunlight haltingly spills,
The dark is all ambient.
A well-carved shrine here once I saw,
That told many timeless tales.
Of human avarice and of war,
And all life entails.
Many a mystique forest glade,
In the vale of those hills,
Numb my mind and my senses fade,
And I hear phantom trills.
That disturbs my inner most mind,
What sang that hymn of pain,
The accursed must thirst to find,
And awaken to the world again.
In the caverns of the old shrine,
A stone statue does rest,
What mind can measure or define
the solitude in his chest.
On the cliff once with flashing eyes,
A rave man I did see,
Calling to the world with loud cries,
Oft I think it was me.