When Blood Greets Earth

Up in the early morn on the mountain glen,

From the wild woods, many strange sounds ring.

 

The morning fire lies smouldering by the old rocks

And moss lies heavy and true.

 

Around this grave a wanderer, knelt by the cairn;

A pile of skin and bone, rapt by natures affairs.

 

The heather shakes in time with the silent seas,

The mountains surround are throne and protector.

 

When blood greets earth, may we no longer roam,

The silent storms will cease, as beauty unfolds.

 

No legend greater than this myth that I hold,

A giant alone in a universe of sparks and molten dreams.

 

And the sun arches in glory upon the heavens we build

Up here in the lonesome valley hills.

 

Blessed with such a sloping vantage point, a crag not far

From the buzzards steady gaze,

 

Encamped on dappled autumn plains, where the glacial streams do cleave,

Spirit swirls and evokes, perfumed with brazen gorse.

 

When blood greets the earth, the battle recedes,

We are destiny emblazon over these hallowed peaks.

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