Silent faced, the village settles down, undetected by the stars.

And the hangman plays the mandolin before he goes to sleep...

the last thing on his mind is the wild-eyed boy imprisoned beneath the covered wooden shaft.

folds the rope into its hang.

blows his pipe of smoulders,

blankets smoke across the room.

the day will end for some, as the night begins for one.

staring through the message in his eyes, lies a solitary sign.

from the mountain Freecloud where the eagle dare not fly, but the patience in his sigh gives no indication for the townsmen.

the village Dreadful yawns, pronouncing gross diversion as the label for the dark boy.

it's the madness in his eyes.

he breaks the night to cry, it's really me.

it's really you and really me!

it's so hard for us to...but this is really me.

it is really me.

you will lose me, but I'm always truly free.

the mountain moved its eyes to where the stone had saved a place for the wild-eyed boy. but the village cried as the rumble started to rise. and they screamed as the boulders smashed down from the mountain side. but the magic in the brow of the boy seemed to say, stop, Freecloud. they won't think to let me out. but the cottages fell, and there were tears on the face on the wild one. crushed bodies of the village folk. and the boy stepped onto the stairway to the cloud. why did you do this..? why did you do this?

[continue]