From this hillside
Covered in carnivorous roses
A figure watches
From beneath a flowering tree
From this hillside
He remembers fire touch the sky
His skin stings
Still sensitive to the memory
A new bloom falls
To be carried onward in the breeze
As a single tear
Falls freely from our figures cheek
A new bloom falls
To die beneath his weary feet
So very tired now
Contentedly he sighs old and weak
Between aching fingers
He lets the ground soil sieve
He watches it fall
Bone and ash catching the sun
Between aching fingers
He feels the days rains begin
As with the first rains
The ends new beginnings begun
