O ancient pillars, rough and old, of this eternal night, O blessed pillars, stark and bold, preserve me in my plight. She runs across uneven earth upturned by hidden roots. She flees. No hope of happy berth. She starts at sudden hoots. And on she twists her winding path amid the mighty trees, as if to flee some vengeful wrath which in her mind she sees. O canopy of evergreen, hide me in your firs, and save my soul from what's unseen and from their hidden lures.
Poem: Soul
Tale Told 