The light is dim,

the air is cold,

a breeze fingers through my hair,

a quiet life of solitude

where company is rare.

The rain drops fall,

the thunder rolls

and lightning cuts the sky.

Its high upon this lonely hill

I’m going to ask you why…

…I am here

and you are here

in a world we do not know

and when at last we leave this place

I wonder where we’ll go?