All hopes and dreams fill barrows
Lie chucked into graveyards
Cast aside like so many gifts
Grown wearisome
Long dead, long forgotten pain and passion
All dust, all echoes and stains in the soil
The great swath of history
Unbroken and unremembered
Even the grandest monuments lie
Cracked and rubbed smooth by sheer forgetfulness
From these crude shadows we make stories
And drift further and further away
Until whispers alone remain
Impossible to say from where
exiles child 