The Old Hill's Trees

”You've heard the old Hill's story?
The tale of ancient pines?
Two trees, and all their glory
I unfold now on these lines.

It's not a tale of riches,
Not a tale of love or loss;
It's just a tale of madness,
And a tale of all its cost.

Trees they are forever,
No voice or heart they own.
But forced to watch it over,
To witness mad to grow.

So it's here the story of mine,
A boy who came to them;
The first to meet the ancient pines,
And time with them to spend.

And on their roots there sitting
The boy he spent his days.
To the pines was talking,
As he knew they liked his plays.

The boy he told them stories,
His heart was clearly gold.
But then there came the armies,
He cried his tears now cold.

That just is how it started –
The change beneath their eyes.
The heart of gold now hardened,
His tales now pain and lies.

The pine trees never moving,
Still stood there at the mound.
They saw the fires burning,
The fear they felt around.

Slowly years now passing;
The madness in him grows.
His words of hate confusing
And vengeance he vows.

The pines can only recall,
How flames begun to blaze;
How the sense and fear did fall
Just madness, blood and rage.

Passing day, after a day;
The boy did not return.
He was gone, he'd went away,
That's all the pines could learn.

Months already, then at last
They sensed the footsteps near;
Someone running, running fast;
The air disclosing fear.

Finally the child returned,
The child they loved so dear.
Crying tears; fire had earned;
His death was far too near.

He lit the flames like candles;
Cried as he cried before.
His madness made it cradle
For his hate and end of war.

The pine trees there now guarding;
He rests beneath their root.
The fire no more blazing;
But the boy and tree now burned.

And there they stay unmoving;
They never cry a tear.
Side by side the dead and living;
Their roots embrace his fear.

Forever on the Hill they stay,
And forever there they stand;
The pines, the boy beneath them lay
With pine trees hand in hand.”

-

(By: Wyrd)