I’ve seen the truth slip out your mouth and vanish.
thus giving your speech no ring, nothing to hold to.
There is no peace within this glade, as you stand befor me,
sun ore your head, your sham has met it’s end
with my defiance. I will not waver like the trees to the wind,
I am stone, solid and forboding,
ominouse yet beautiful in its own right.
and you my dear wind, have no power over me.
Yet you are blind and see nothing,
you do not see the softer side of the stone,
the part that weeps, for you once ment so much,
now you mean so little.