In forests, in lonely nights
They speak to me, phantom voices.
In the crowded streets of wretched cities,
They are never silent, they keep whispering.

I cannot decipher their twisted tongues,
They murmur secrets I do not comprehend,
But they still crawl to my deaf ears,
But they still share their forbidden knowledge.

Their last messenger died millennia ago,
Yet they trust me to eventually understand.
They keep hoping that my mind will tear through the ages,
Bringing back the key to their lost wisdom

I do not know their faces,
But their words become more and more familiar.
I do not know what they want,
But they still speak to me every day and night.

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