Outlive The Hand — Be'lakor

In death she spoke of waiting Her final days were long These fields have changed since last she wept Before the silent throng

She sits where childhood memories lie Above, beside, within them The carvings have outlived the hand Which bled to first begin them

As features of the landscape merge The oldest trees are falling Awareness sweeps the view aside She stares as if recalling

Seen first beyond the canopy They soon had reached the borders The clouds infused with burning breath Arrived from coldest corners

The windswept valley hastens now As dying words are uttered From lips of earth and sapling''s strain Like leaves, her last thoughts fluttered

Again it darkens overhead The knowledge of it stills me And when the water starts to fall Preserve the drop that kills me