On sea salted hill wind whips my face,

Under soil are lives, beyond stone is warmth.

Rumours lie deep, thoughts shallow of airy endeavour.

When I think, I hear earth crack, as I slumber, it rocks.

Within its timeless tales are my key,

Outside is frit and bare as freedom.

A peaceful song, a lark on,

Way to way, pass to pass,

In its shadow is a task,

By its weight have I bent,

In its tomb will I’ve lain.