Omen

Once we wanderes through plains
Bleak their sight

Once we wanderes through mires
Enigmatic what they hold

In this land a wind was blowing
Fresh and full of power
We believed in giving and taking
Not only did we honour, we lived

Fresh meadows, covered the new
Ripe crops were taken with respect
Life

Now we wander through plains
Barren their sight

Now we wander through mires
Hard as stone

Lost seems to be the understanding
That we forgot - meaningless
More than just a work
Less than a chapter of truth

The wind will put us in our place

Cold, repulsion - death