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I hear the voices of the trees which crown

the mountains, resting upon the

wooden cloak. The tired and numb...

leaving the blood running

through my veins, and feeling

the sound of thoughts

flowing like the boulder's River.

The soul of forest shave me and trespass me

his wisdom and visions.

The Path get's loss in the fanthomless

darkness of the night, and left look it's rake to

those eyes which beholds from

the High. Inclement, marble astral domes.

I summon the spirits of forefathers to reach

the stars, the strenght of those

who felt in the uproar of battle.