The shadows writhe across the ground
And from the sky a fog drifts down
Before me lies a dying land.
Leafless shrub and thorny grass
Rotting trees of ages past
Grow twisted in the bloodied sand.
Across this plain my path must lie
Under leaden, hazy sky
My footsteps will not turn back now.
Beyond this land the mountains rise
Like sentinels for those who’ve died
Upon these gray and lifeless downs.
Yet through the steaming stench of death
I taste a sweet, unsullied breath
Of dewy violets in the sun;
Of sprawling yews with fragrant green
And mossy earth by rippling stream
My restoration has begun.
My homeland waits beyond this hell
Beyond the looming sentinels
And beckons me with memory.
My roaming days will end at last
In meadowlands of waving grass
And forests filled with ancient trees.
When I at last behold the face
Of one I love, her warm embrace
Will lift the years of sorrow’s toil.
Her smile will light a thousands suns
To know my traveling days are done
We’ll drink the silver glow of joy.
I’ll walk with her through pastures fair
And breathe the crystal springtime air
And nevermore I’ll be alone.
My eyes are fixed upon the road
I’m bent beneath a heavy load
But I don’t care
I’m going home.
