Goblin Hovel - The Museum

The hands of a child reach out and touch the barrier between the times
A simple act before crossing sempiternal lines
waiting here inside . . .
Here in this place among the artefacts
the lessons are alive
the essence has survived in those who step inside
Here in this place a graven image rests
work of human hands
resurrection from the sands I begin to understand . . .
The hands of the scribe are still as the inscription in the stone
a simple answer just on the cusp of the unknown
waiting here inside
awake your weary mind
was that your answer in the silence unperceived?
could it be I've been deceived?
was that the reason I can't bring myself to leave?
show me and I will believe
open the door
I kneel before
one step more
the eternals come
Here in this place are the sleeping gods
awakened to the sound
can these wings that we have found leave this rotten ground?
Here in this place among forgotten works
hear the whispers of the sands
as they're slipping through your hands
now you understand.