To where all bodies of erthe crawl,
for rest at the great spine’s dire grave.
Arriving at the shores of their
death, each beast must return to kiss,
most sweetly, and join again with
the bones that bore the beat of their
Eldra.

Once caught firm in the wide arms of
the first forests, such creatures are
swallowed utterly by thick fog.
The breath of five giants who once
hauled the spine to barrow from ruin,
lingers still. Trapped beneath branch
and bole.

Tis in which all sense is stolen,
all feet fall blind and with worry,
where none know the way to their kiss.
On middan of gray some feet do
move faster than others. Those, small
and slow, are here crushed under heel
and toe.