The Name of the Wind

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

And the gods scream my name