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The White RavenGathered under a thousand stars, offerings are given to the marshlands.Tribal chants, discordant songs, echo through the hillside on the breeze. Like the silent forests, time stands dormant as a mountain. And the weakling dawn light is swallowed in the stillness of the morning. Entwined upon my iron stained skin, the beasts of the wildwood play. Dancing in the endless hunt. And from the clouds comes a call beyond the endless god of the sky, where dawn awakens to cries on the wind. Ritual of bone and soil, embers slowly rise. illuminating sacred kin, with hollow eyes and pale skin. With Eyes of wolf and wings of carrion born, We before the dawn, await your final call. Beneath the great hall of the sky we all shall live and we all shall die White raven, witness the sun wheels descent, as old oaks shed their leaves.The marshlands, fall silent in the dark. And through the swirling mists we gather at the coastline And look towards the horizon... |