The Precipice & The Gully

Karma, sweet karma gives her nod.

I bury my sacred knowing in a land not well-known.

To keep sanity and to be that of my own.

I came to the well known, to gather up my saddle and stone.

Here I carve my name down deep.

Here they know my namesake and speak.

This is not a place that just anyone shall pass.

Intruders will lay fallen in the grass.

Foreign I may be.

Powerless I am not.

Here the ill spoken or thought will not be more than mildew rot.

Poison you think you speak, poison is what you actually drink.

Karma, sweet karma gives her nod.

Down the Gully my sweet love.

Follow me they cannot.