I hear whistling from silent graves. I give attention to it, I could hear my very heart beat. And the ground did itch my feet. I felt the winds with hands tugging in my flesh, I felt been dragged away to that hungry tomb. There was the eye in the dark I tried to escape or ignore, I ran so fast but was never away from my fears. The ghost came and worked machinery in my imagination. Sight was blurred and mute was my cries to tell or lament of things strange. And the hunt not meant to kill was to make my strength diminish. How often my hope is threatened and failure the monster knocks at the door. So I approach with trembling kneel and aching feet, daring the fierce barking dog before my future and I.