[ IP ] Into the depts of the Unknown

It slumbers deep within the green 
 
 The deep heart 
 
 Covered in the life of its surrounds 
 
 The light dances through the canopy, rays play upon the leaves, and beams walk between the thistles 
 
 The faint scent of pine drifts lazily past and rests easily upon the laughter of the brook, streaming like molten glass 
 
 The pebbles watch silently, passing their stony judgement upon the softer things 
 
 They will outlast all, even the mighty sentinels who stand, stand and be 
 
 The moss, though soft and very un-stone like, has the respect 
 
 It grows where others fear, upon the Old Thing itself 
 
 Courageous and persistent the moss encroaches, pushes its boundaries, slowly covering all 
 
 All but the molten glass where the pebbles hide 
 
 The stones are smart 
 
 The Old Thing does not stir, though its life pulses 
 
 Its blood echoes out, filling the green with its rhythm 
 
 In the deep heart where the Old Thing lies
