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I taste the broth that seeps down through the gorge |
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I wipe the blade I once wrought from the forge |
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The taste of flesh, the ash of oaken fires |
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I bide my time by the mire until it dries |
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To me the world is a heart |
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No chambers void, some shallow |
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And when the light prepares to depart |
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A pulse for my breath to follow |
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I sense the throes of twilight born anew |
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I fear its wrath as all my brothers do |
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Though life turns dark and movement steals the night |
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I rejoice in the spoils at morning light |
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To me the world is a heart |
|
No chambers void, some shallow |
|
And when the light prepares to depart |
|
A pulse for my breath to follow |
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Retrieving senses dormant while daylight reigns |
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The eyes of dusk ignite |
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A promise of teeth and claw |
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Revoke my bones from sleep |
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Upon my tongue a feral howl |
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Stars! |
|
Watchers of the dark |
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Blood drips from my wailing plea |
|
Stars! |
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I seek your blessing |
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To paint the blood of my hunter |
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Upon the weapon that reaps my prey |
