The chosen sanctuary down beneath the sand built of darkened stones the bottom half that casts illusions, those who walk by stone are sinking in sinking to a secret place beneath the sand the people sharp as day that they forgot stand and shout and pray and clap their hands until the air seeps out the blood and blood drains from the eyes and seeing only white they fall the stones casting illusions that they sink to places where no one can stand and in the holy white they see their land and hear the crackling tongues (behind their heads) of gods the men forgot forgetting like a sickness spreads to the eyes so full the trust that cannot cure as it spreads and it spreads the gods still whispering names up through the stone in hopes of something to both parties utterly unspeakable so in despair they lay until the chains shake from below