Upon this summit I sat
wondering away my moments
wandering away my mind--
Watching the world meandering...
unconscious and blind.

From the waters and soil
we were born of the earth--
T'was deadness gave us our birth.
Alas, this rock is my mother;
Hard, cold, and enduringly dead.
The sky is my father;
Strong, violent and already gone.

Upon the precipice I stood
A man upon the fringe of all worlds.
In all ways I could see
the distant foggy realms--
kingdoms and homes...
But to the west I watched
as the great god of day
slowly inched down
to the perpetual hidden pit;
From the light
My whole world turned away.

My footprints filled with shadow
And the wolves sang to me
a chorus of forsaken cold.
Up above my ancestors rose--
their eyes staring like speckeled
shimmers of a watery grave.
I'll never reach them
And their dim lights
shall never see me.

From mother's womb
the trip is never long
to that self-same tomb.
For a moment it just seemed
like a great stupid joke--
why take the long way
when the journey could be short?

Over the edge was such a
long dark way down.
No... I would stand here
for at least a moment more
and watch the last golden rays
paint another fading hue across the world.

I saw faces in my mind.
Some beemed brightly blue and clear;
others stared with deep crystaline warmth.
No... I would not end this;
I would not trade away this warm blood
When lived such lovely eyes.

Yes... the trip is too short
And the tragedy is gross.
But to my home I went
To hold on to the greatest jewels
Ever dug from the heart of the earth.

To my home I quickly went
full of blind happiness...
in spite of the growing shadows
and gripping chill
of the unavoidable, closing night.