Have you ever heard the hymns of the old world?

Drifting through the cities,

Voices of the past,

Echoes of forgotten men,

Words of a tryst that was kept?

Stories of lives that held meaning,

Giants and soldiers,

Dragons and angels,

Battles fought, 

Armies raged.

Kings and legions hunting singular men,

Men whose words could make mountains quiver.

Morals that men and women used to have,

Children used to smile and be happy.

What happen to the echoes of yesterday?

I travel along the secret paths,

Along rivers and through forests,

Out of the city,

Out of the noise.

I search for what is forgotten.

I hear the echoes of broken men.

I follow the songs,

I hear the stories,

I hear the love.

It might be that Trysts such as these,

Are the only time,

That news like this,

Can be heard as they should be,

After a journey is taken,

Along secret paths,

Away from the pressures of society.

Where people recognize themselves,

As powerless creatures of distaste.

But in the secret places,

We gather together and know,

That we are seeking an awakening,

Like in days of old.