Hearing voices soft and low,
'neath the harrowed ground,
whispers of a time long past,
shadows in the twilight cast...
such an eerie, yellow glow,
from a beastly place,
hands that reach from far below,
touching nothing, none can know,
where this weary path may lead,
when the world has passed.
Worry not, for naught can be,
what the eye can never see.