If an angel were to walk this baron land, with footsteps so tender they leave no mark where they stand. Would us burdened walkers ever know, whether they have chosen to bless our burdened soul. No kiss can be felt from the sweet maidens lips, if one does feel,it is the flame from hells fiery pits. We are drawn to our knees breaking our will like fallen men, to pray to the lord that the angel will come again. No sight, no touch nor taste can mark her presence, yet as she departs for her heaven your heart is left with an aching silence. As if for a moment she held it in her hands, only to leave us to face the still baron land.