Ifeoma's child is dead and her crying gong speaks in different tones.
She has welcomed few treasures into her basket yet this tendril seasons has been a rising in the sun.
Ifeoma's child is dead and her warrior is in the hill.
He never returned when she lost her womb last season.
He never returned to secure his sluggard roof where ifeoma has been gathering stars into his song.
What then shall be of tomorrow's mirror when he only knows the footpath to ifeoma's threshold.
The world is just a heap of Sand that gathers in the rain
