TidesongOn broken wings we wait another day
We slumber in the quiet isolation.
Until at last our freedom can be found.
And we break the bonds that chain us
to the cold unfeeling ground.
We wait to fly away from human pain,
to feel that breath of life one more.
To stand atop the mountains grand.
and once again rule hallowed halls;
Such forces great at our command.
We long to follow the wind once more,
and feel the sea with its graceful waves.
We long to burn with the heat of ember.
And reclaim the world that once was ours,
back to a time not well remembered.
We're planning for the coming storm.
The endless battles finally over.
To return the world to the balance true.
To mend the scars of human hands
and see lands barren born anew.
We long to change the tide once more.
And call forth the fire and wind.
To free souls fettered and damned.
And hear our names sung once more
as they restore to us our holy land.
You hear the tides song calling out.
You hear the voice upon the wind.
You hear the fire
The youth and the one legged knightMany are the stories told
by the hearth side on cold nights,
of the knights of this fine land
and their bravery and valiant fights.
But one such tale above the rest
will shock you to your core,
for one knight lost his leg one day
while hunting for a boar.
Now he was strong and he was feared
despite his peculiar condition,
And this confused one brash youth
who questioned the knights position.
So the youth came forth one fateful day
a challenge for to set
And he inquired of this one legged knight
why he'd not retired yet.
The knight did laugh, so deep and loud
at the simple inquisition.
Then he spake in a voice quite low
"I'll tell ye' if ye' listen"
And so the youth did thus agree
But the answer from the one legged knight
did anger and astound.
"You see, skill is not lost easily,
and I am still the best.
It seems that you doubt my ability.
Shall we put this to the test?"
Astounded by the proposition,
and feeling pity for the fool,
The youth said "It seems you've
The VigilWinter is waning - the water is rising.
Low sit the longships, laden for war.
Far from these fjords there are fortunes unconquered-
The sea-steeds need strong men to stand at the oar.
They hail to a hornblast hewing the dawn's breath
First of the firstborn, but fresh in their years
Bold sons of battle; their brows set in steel,
Gleaming with greed for the glutting of spears.
Raucous and ready, they rush to the shoreline,
Mirth is among them, and no mortal dread
Will set on their spirit, whose summer is shadowless,
Boys yet unblooded, so brazen at death.
Then helm-clanging hushes; they hold back together
Wave of war-cries falls to whispering foam.
Here is hallowed ground--they hear it spoken
From wells untapped, where wonder dwells unknown.
For, seaward and silent, a storm-weathered sentinel
Bent at the back, with a blade on his knees
Is watching the waves; the wind touches his shoulder,
And he listens, alone, to her lingering pleas.
He is older than Odin, say owl-eyed speywives
14/06 - June Blossoms"Three Headed Dragon" by Tetradia De Lace
14/03 - Two March Covers
13/12 - Pull Up the Covers - It's December!
13/11 - November's Newsletters
|More Journal Entries|