Black Hooves, White Snow

black hooves, white snow candlewax dripping, water from a rusted spicket. brass doorknobs, forbidden rooms, where spider webs cover forgotten books. and the chant of the ancients rolls like thunder! strike the bell, mountains quiver! somewhere the gods of old walk deserted streets, while the shepherd kings raise their flutes and play. and the old mad monk walks into the hills, never to be seen, or heard again. black hooves, white snow the taste of blood, the smell of need. bows drawn tight, the archers wait for the sun to rise in a blackened sky. the wheel turns in the desert sand (nothing ever stays the same) water wears down stone until it finds it's way. while trees fall in a desolate forest, and the hawk flies alone down through the gorge. black hooves, white snow till we find our way!