You, dear Traveller, who ceases your Steps

Curious, on invitation, or perhaps,

weary from your quests

the door is ajar and the lamps beckon

Pray do come in

Rest well in my deacon


Humble is the abode;

-- I was never much exquisite

This is only the grasslands

For the stallion to roam


To gallop with the winds

from the cares of the World

To take an all Forgotten place

And call it Home


And you who sorjourn here

take heart as you rest

For soon we shall part

As your host and my guest


Afore you set foot, swift on your way

Leave a sign to tell me that you left today

Read to remember

the day that you came

Claimed a part of me

when you left your name

Deeper...