Monument to the dead

Never gleamed a place discovered so contrary to us. The Kaith is a dessicated land where our ever weary footsteps tremble and crumble. Our God given hearts grow cold, wither, and rot away to dust. No place yet found matches it in its ruthless gaiety in death and decay. Yet the tracks of steady prints upon the ashen lands do raise a shuttering quandary, where angel's fear to tread, I ponder what travels there with confidence?