My Hands Were Made to Hold the Wind

This soul is amorphous Glowing through nature in strange patterns Desperate follower I wandered untraceably far from home Lured by its trail Flashes of gold Lured to the mountain & lulled to sleep This was the one day no child should have slept The caravan had come To take those marked at birth for sacrifice In the River of Muninn I was among the marked The ring of youth Appointed to be drowned at dawn on the chosen day but I slept through the conjuring Slept through the drums & horns I would have been a guardian Watching the grace of wisdom blossom through the ages Instead I watched the stones & torches of the village banish me Self disintegrated Passion untarnished There must be another way The entity I was chasing The vicar of my failure Expands upon my grief a notion Glory in the wake of abandonment The river is still mine to take The soul is still mine to guard Immortal passion in fast aging skin My hands were made to hold the wind