I walked the spiraling village one night Drawn by the word of a bell or a light Out on the flat side it rolls to a spire
Parent and child and an ocean between One is not heard and the other not seen Too many bottles but each had a message inside
Lucky we are when the stars leave us singing a hymn Or a dirge of the ocean is gone
And the old woman just stares at her hands So many heroes have crumbled to sand All those cathedrals were merely by men