Beneath mountain stones

An evil of primal forces

Uncorrupt and heavy

Man is far too weak


The headland above the sea

The 2nd burial mound

Their bodies were weary

And their minds were dreary


All for nothing

Though years pass

A glass of life

Refilled when emptied


Uncorrupt pitch black

Weight of an ox

Fires to cleanse

And to reduce

And to die again

And to wish for a 2nd death