A serpent coils once more, the eye unblinking and vacant As clouds tumble, broken from the sky as if pierced by golden spears
A silent voice cries out in mute elation A memory of sound, eclipsed by the howling of gods
Ealdgast, older than time The voice of the soill beckons me home
We beseeched the wisfom of the gods But our words died amid the chasm of silence Their voices choked in subjugation Smothered beneath veils of seductive deceit
Yet still I stand, bloodied but unbroken By my own hands I forged my fate In defiant mockery of the heavens The wind speaks to me once more