Silver that glints in the desert
Travels through places long lost,
Phantoms who sigh tear the mountains
For bones of the earth are the cost.
The songs of the ancient, distant and deep
Fade into lights in the sky,
And all the paths of reflections
Dissipate into the green nights.
We of the mists have long known it,
Reverting to things still untold;
A thousand red dreams fill the winter,
And all of the dust becomes gold.