The Hill

Praying to our own Gods

Writing our own Legends and Following our own Lights

Our Lies are our Beliefs and our Beliefs are our Rules

Our Rules don’t matter

Real stories about Real people

The Wild

And from the Dead Flesh will rise the Eastern Flowers

Hiking Birds, Bleeding Fruits, Rhythm and Water, Black Islands and Green Grass

A Grace on the Hill and some Ink on the Floor

Deserting the Lords of Needs to embrace the Queens of Nil

The Lack

With their own Choirs We will sing and the Wild will be praised

Hosting Hordes and Burning Words

What can’t be seen is Proved.

What can’t be proved is Real

We will build our own Chapels

They will be Glorious as We will be

Art doesn’t matter. People do.
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