Hear Me, O' ye Mortal Kind

Hear me O’ ye mortal kind, for such story resides in mortal mind as might lift the blind with gift of sight by inner eye pried wide. When your kind first rose on heels and toes, truth I placed beneath your roots: a whispered tale in my own voice of all the wails and woes of choice. A song of Hope both found and lost I’ve scarred upon your inner arcs, that all your inner thoughts be marked like some sign of God carved in bark and left for you to find. Yes, such story buried deep inside is mine.