Far out across the sand
and wiry brush,
where three rivers meet,
there is an island
with rock as red as blood,
and a single palm.

Below the ground, a cavern,
whose walls line with copper,
that leads to the end of the world.

I walked there when I was a boy,
and found the answer I would someday seek,
but the question was yet unborn.

I knew the words for so many years.
They haunted me most of my life,
bringing fever and madness close,
and shielding me from the light.

The words were bare,
unambiguous.
Set in stone.

I feared their truth.

The day would come.
And it came.
And with it, the question arose.

And it was dread.

Do not seek for answers.
For they will come.