Beginning in the evergreens,
Where the waters run sweet as wine,
The skies sing out shattering,
The ground spins down below
His marching feet.

One thousand and one years
Left him in the earth,
And raised up Typhon,
Come lightning staff,
Come thunder breath.

Moving through the mountains,
Purpled by the sun,
Floods cutting through the rock,
Come traveling through the caverns,
Through the cloud's rain that tear down.

Eagles eating gods,
And green, green trees stretching hands,
He stumbles through the paths,
Going all martyr in the shades.

Eventually, his progression meets the sun,
That scorches shadows from their place,
Plumes of fire preaching,
Here he finds the meadows,
Melting all gone in the red and stubborn sand.

Oh and there he fights the priests,
Oh and there he summons hell,
From the sun that never dies,
And the seasons never change.

There go I,
Through the paradises of elephants,
(White and rouge)
Palaces of sultans in the sultan shade.
Armageddon heavens twisting,
Where the spindle-bound spires raise.

There go I,
Vagrant feet forging,
The miles in meter
And the deserts in their damnation.

Eventually, the vagrant finds the rivers.
Eventually, there he claims all Moses,
Running wild through these waters,
Cutting heel into valleys pale and pink.

Golden Hordes, and god-kings,
And paisley patterns branded in the eye;
There are the journeys going unhindered,
Where the snow meets the soul.

The vagrant with his body,
Naked in the mind,
Storm by boat in the dead of winter,
Warmed by sails in the dead of spring.

The vagrant going east,
Then around again and west,
There shores of silver,
Horns of plenty fallen found.

One thousand and one years
Gilded in the green,
Fluorescent accents smiling,
Sounds smelting in the foreign forests.

The vagrant meets the sea
After his trials in their numbers,
Blankets thrown up,
White sheets waving,
Clairvoyance in antiquity.

The sea is blue and washing,
The vagrant's eyes are marbled,
As the notes progression goes
The water kisses the air.

Pillars taller than the stars
Stretch to heaven forgetting,
There oceans rising,
And the tranquil music dancing.

Tripped out not wanting,
Rise and risen,
The scavenger surface
And the molten mound.

Poor traveler,
In his vision where all eyes meet,
The savage and sacred nature,
The hurricanes and blissful storms.

Poor traveler,
Not meet your end,
One foot in the grave,
Where a million, million angels
Carry you down.

And poor traveler,
King in concert,
There hills and crevasses crawl to him,
Call to him,
Leave all their pasts searching.