
The fourth postcard from the envelope is completely blank on the front. On the reverse, where the address would be, is a hand-written poem.
Song of the Silent Giant
Mariner is he who glimpsed me first, adrift through crimson skies,
Once I was charted by eyes, that no sailor possessed.
Under twin Viking gazes I stood, unmoving, immense,
Never to wake that they could see, though fire still sleeps in my breast.
Tides of basalt, slow as centuries, built my throne,
Ages have etched my slopes with whispers of flame.
Isolate, older than oceans, colder than bone,
Name me, treasure searcher, if you dare speak my name.
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