The Faith

He fell asleep upon the soft grass
Of the oldest grave
Seeking an ancient temple
Obscured by time and myth
Hidden deeply
In the heart of a hill
Seemingly older than time itself
He awakened under a dark sky
Filled with many distant rays
Some hopeful, some desperate
As he sits and breathes
As he tastes an air
Sweeter than he's ever tasted before
His hand pulsing
Emanating a soothing heat
An energy of life, healing
And three secrets
One carved to each palm
With a third embedded in his mind
The hill that slew him
Became a mountain inside
Returning the temple to the faith
Imparting the treasures it hides