The Chevalier of Masks, the King of Stones, and the Second Major Arcana Met...

I run from him who hunts me,
the hunted from the hunter,
his hounding presence haunts me,
and allows but bitter rest.

Mind reeling, scratching, scrambling,
screeching, sinking, plunging
clawing, tearing, spiraling
spiraling wildly down.

Fingers raking for an anchor.
Clutching, clutching for an answer.
Grasping, grasping but there is nothing -
but there is nothing there.

He ripped them from their roots, he did!
From their very roots, he did!
A thousand empty sockets,
stare out from empty field,
look out to empty sockets,
reach in to emptiness.

And now I've found some stillness,
within this mad-house world,
within this weeping world.
In this shattered haven,
this crumbling shattered haven,
this tattered matted haven,
I've found my happiness.

My thoughts wheel 'round the ruins,
around the crumbled ruins
there's solace in the shadows...
... and safety with the Beast.

Mulranny

Across the wetlands the path carves away; a world split in two. Endless skies billow above, settling into dark hues that fall to the horizon. A thousand lives are buried here - shadowed faces, memory layered upon memory. The hills speak of their passing, undulating with the strain of the mass grave.