In the land of rain mist and fog I stumbled across an old wooden church. Thunder echoed off hills lightning flickered like a serpents tongue.Tucked away neatly in folds mountains winding roads there it stood. As sentinel guarding what secrets this hollow has have yet to see. stood rain softly pelting me with seemed hundreds maybe thousands silent ravine swept prayers from mouths hands people long lost. The silence was defeating as if not word had ever been spoken over century. And that wind valley fog found but momentary lapse peace. Under wet swollen ground lay hundreds corpses seemingly forgotten moss covered yearning feel sun peer just once more. above so below thought. turned continued onwards toward faint pale light east. -II