A rustle in the wind.
A predator across the land.
A silent killer from which we stand.
Something in the air.
Something spreading like a fire.
Something burning upon that great pyre.
From the place which they come.
From the black of the moon
From the days that come too soon.
We try to stand tall.
We craddle existence with all our might
We hope one day to gain the sight.
Might we come to love our life.
Might a person see our youth.
Might that day come to proof.