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Riddle of the Hills

Tingling riddles Enchanted fiddles And a sacred Vine Strung up from the sands of the most Ancient of Times. Maniacal laughter and a shackle of branches A collision of stars and an explosion of answers Where am I from? What have I begun? The Sapphire in my grasp, so illustrious Within my dirtied, calloused palms. I rage against the Flames As they chant at my bosom Urging me forth Into their fiery chasm But I must resist And not become irresistible I yearn to be freed Yet they lure me back within I cannot run from this myriad of pleasure The whiplash of tongues And obsidian black ashes I roam the highlands Emerald green strands straddling my toes Begging for Amethyst and instead Blessed with Diamonds from the throes of the River As I dance with the Willows And promise to thee that I shall not lay open Nor shall I kill the Deer from the fields of my Silver edged quiver. This is the path that I tread without worry I dance amongst the throngs of lies Pursuing truth edged with blades I have abated your heart And I gaze at your palms Like mine were once dirtied But beautiful A charm ever still As you hold the Gem of Tranquility And we never abandon the strength of this Iron Will



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