Furrows of a Dying Tree - WRVTH

A sound resonates through the halls

A rusty creak in the dead of night

The ghost of yesteryear

A pagan cloaked in black

Four winds whir from every corner

Chattering leaves in the midnight calm

The moon is the only light

And the wind is the only voice

Telling a foreign tale of cohesion and avidity Nestled in the furrows of a

dying tree

The moon is the only light

And the wind is the only voice

The moon is the only light