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When the day’s long hours
Fall to ruin, fall to ash,
And the sky spits purple
‘Cross the night so vast,
A light can be seen
On the ridge above the hills;
Thin and empty, rusting,
Tall and dark and still
The sun never touches
Where his wild garden grows
He's there, amidst the riddles
Of a stranger's healthy glow
Climb the crags until you strike
The summit, where he waits.
He’ll hold you close, hold you down;
He smells of dust, of fate
The heart crashes softly;
Within his mouth, it shines
The sky becomes a void,
And loneliness divine
They’ll find you there, frozen stiff,
Forgotten and alone.
They’ll stow the husk beneath the earth
While women weep and moan.
Yet when the twilight blooms again
And grief has had its fill,
They’ll see your light, burning bright
On the ridge above the hills.
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