That walked on the sea,
That lived in the groves,
That spoke out of trees.
Still are. More so now,
When we wire the trees
And call through the seas.
We are what we feared,
The ghosts of our prayers.
We tried to quit it,
To carve the gods down,
Just keep the big ones,
Wrap them up in one.
But we failed. To be
A small god calls us,
Ghost tree in the sea.
