To the hill's top and beyond.
A tiny hut resides at the end of the road,
The road ends where people do not go.
There rests in peace my muse and love
Within a coffin made of soil and leaves.
Sometimes, she sits atop the mountains people do not see,
Touching the clouds, she smiles in glee.
And when the wars will end and birds will sing.
She will turn the serpentine road around,
For a new world to lead.