Across the steppe and mountain plain,
The hare came tumbling, carved on rock.
They spoke no language, gave no sign:
They simply were the three as one.
Along the silk route, scratched on wheels,
The traders pondered what they meant,
And made up tales and sang them songs:
The hare were lovers, mystics, gods
And on a distant, ice-cliffed, shore
The hare at last could make their peace.
They found a place of fragile walls,
Which faced the sea and all its storms.
The three were one, their journey long,
Together: water, stone and sun.