A eunuch stands at the hallow grounds. Singing into the hollow tree trunk. Singing of lovers lost and a life once watched.
Standing in awe of the mist as the night revives to the  fog as the dawn rolls into the hallow ground. Rolling in like the tide curling over the sands of time. 

White over green
And weeds wrapping around the sphere of water like a bag in the wind.
Still the eunuch cant find the answers to the song that he sings
Or what the morning starts to bring
Minds criss cross in a single wrinkle in time
Spirits roam in wandering towards the light
Lingering and labouring through the walls into the sands of time

White on grey
Swinging through the breeze, less hallways and corridors
The afternoon is when they take their tea
Looking as the waves curl onto the sands of time from the grasping sea
Now all will be
And the sands of time will never cease to show what needs to be seen

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