At the volcano's sill sits a stone.
Etched in its surface is your name.
I take it in my hand, down to the woods.
With a sigh I begin to dig.
Blood flecks my fingertips grinding the dirt.
Yet I continue, deeper still, waist deep now.
With mounds of dirt surrounding me,
my sweat soaked body has reached its goal.
I take the stone, I place it down gently.
It is bathed in mud of my blood and my sweat.
I emerge from the hole, and release my breath.
I take the soil and push it in, burying the stone.
It is compacted with my mud, hidden from the surface.
Nobody shall know it, but there forever it shall sit,
and I will know, and now you will too.