Here lies a king of ancient past Surrounded by his riches vast The mighty fallen; a restless ghast Embalmed within a shroud to last. Atop his barrow a tree doth grow A sapling planted to respect a foe Now tall and strong, and bough wind blown It's reaching feet, deep in the loam. Its branches shelter many things Of fur, of feather and insect wing Mammals gather, birds that sing A nature spirit, protects the king. Disturb the peace; upset the dust Peel back the layers of age-old must Unearth the secrets; reveal the truth Concealed beneath these gnarled old roots. Enter then, at thine own peril Thy greed will be thine own betrayal Rouse these sleeping bones so frail Wake the dead and part the veil.
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R.J. Ren 