There are ghosts in every hallway
In every room, behind every door
Peering through every window into the past

Holding onto us in the bitterness of the mire
Leaving a trace of themselves in the spaces in which they hide


...but there are no ghosts here...

There are gods in the wake of every flame

The fire that betroths the coldness of the void
In every wind, every tempest, and every snowfall
In every silence

Inside every root that reaches deep into the soul of the Earth

...but there are no gods here...


Shadows paint the dusk
Ghosts rise from the flames

To set alight in the fields
In robes of smoke and spirit aligned