There's a strange feeling that grows where the mountains glow| Lilacs mascaraed an earthy feel| Glares pass cadences from poems of past| Holding reverence in an ever-changing world| Weighing upon Atlas' shoulders| Strength comes in vexing times| Through smiles and gales| The concoction of a tragedy never fails| As we plunge towards the depths of a well| Our voices recorded and echoed where we fell| The story will be foretold as a myth once experienced| Expired from memory| Bellowed from a clergy| The cycle ending with a cry from her belly|