How heavy I feel,
Through days of bleak, biting cold.
Carried by the wind,
Through fingers, and rushes of maple
Lonely mountain,
grandest father of stone,
Adorned in water and roots
cold echoes upon an eternal throne.
We were held together by the unyielding belief
that our graves were not tombs, but seeds.
With grey hewn stones, marking our roots
to grow anew among the ancient trees
Yet under the dominion of man
Naught but dust and ash can grow
Lonely mountain,
grandest father of stone,
Adorned in water and roots
cold echoes upon an eternal throne.
I wander alone in the Endless Forest,
Where stones remain unturned in the forgotten wood.
I step carefully through the mist,
Shadows hem my path through the pine
On the mountain rising from cold earth,
Where naught but the wind calls my name
Freed from the burden of belief
That I must preserve my body
No sign of my passing
Only the dust of man
The cold rising mountain,
the burning ice and grasping roots
Scour all of the tombs
We thought would remain
Lonely mountain,
grandest father of stone,
Adorned in ice and roots
cold echoes upon an eternal throne.
Your majesty casts a great shadow
Unceasing, impenetrable,
on the fate of man.
