Nothing grew on the land.
The surface was a mound of rocks
and beneath the soil
there was ash,
the remains of a thousand years
of lightning-scarred vegetation.
There was no life there,
anymore. Nothing the eye could see.
The wind would roll
and its whispers could be heard
if the ear was inclined to listen.
The sound was the sound of
a timeless song,
but never silenced.
A tune which all people
had once known, but
had forgotten with time
and the change that comes with it.
Change for this and
change for that.
Everything changes, but
the sound remains,
always the same, always the same.
Nothing grew in this barren place,
but the song from which
all was sprung could still be heard
by those who inclined
an ear to listen.