N) Memories of 1692

The mountain engorged by its might
Sneers at the resting moon.
In golden shades of dark tranquillity
The river sings for her sister,
Mourning the lost tendrils
Of forgotten smiles,
Weaving a tapestry of silver
Beneath the granite tomb.
The forests of forever
Whisper to the sleeping worm
Who nestles in the sunken earth
Waiting for the morning dew.
They murmur their seduction
To the pregnant snowdrop
And taunt the hawthorn
With their blossom.
The fragrant breath
Of a summer breeze
Floats along the valley floor
And tempts the dead
To rise again
From their memorial grave.
Rekindled battle memory
And ancient feud,
The music of a proud family,
Now lost,
Drifts across the mountain peak
And lingers in the icy waters.
The mountain sneers at the resting moon
And shouts his wrath at the rising sun.
The tortured souls that trod his paths
Now broken by his murderous hand,
Haunt the stark and blasted crags
And wail and shiver in the night.
The mountain sneers and hides his guilt
Beneath a veil of blackened stone,
But the single voice of a lonely pipe
Calls the demon to face his crime.