Where the mountain hides the plain,
And the city of the shifting sands,
Wandering spirits of the slain shriek on evening winds.
The soft light of the morning keeps the passes lit.
I fell into a stillness, it came rushing back to me.
Shackle memory to the sun and chase it through the sky.
Release attachments one by one, forget them as they die.
Cast rocks into the ocean, feel the tide again.
Lose track of all the moments, clear the sand again.
