Though the moss pounds your breast
And the trickling stream covers your limbs
Though the roots stretch deep so wholesomely
Though the breeze blows so broad
And the soil gives it up so pregnantly
Though the canyons echo reassuring
Though the animals chirp innocent and
And you hear waves pounding sort of mystically

All of these graces aren't the whole
There's a violent voice I've also heard
There's an underlying tone of threat
There is terror underneath, deeply sprouting
To wrap vines around my legs
And wrap me up in rotten rotting
The magic rumble on the mountain
Will avalanche and leave me crushing