There are humans that rise out of the ash
They are molded from the ground with care
Their limbs are spun with moss;
Their hair with silk.

There are humans that feel with fervor
Their souls consist of rain and beams of moonlight
Sentiment is their language; emotions are their words

They dance in patches of light
They celebrate under the twinkle of stars

Their desires are simple,
But they are not.

The deceased return to ashes;
Mourning is as common as elation
The breezes plague them,
The storms are disastrous

Whole villages swept away,
Ashes piled high
With lone survivors roaming the nearby forests

The humans have gold for blood,
And pearl for bones.
They are the undiscovered ones

Who return to the Earth as suddenly as they arrive