Bending the mountains down Flowing fire Sky crawling monolith Souls will rise Carving earth Roots expand Casting fate Moons advance No longer free to drift Throne a pyre Calling back Shields alive Walls will rise Ochre hands Shrine a pyre We fear the trees, the dark within Our shadows flat black, tethers in the sun Ghosts of our past, spirits race the winds Breaking stone we bow to plow and the hearth Brothers and sisters, are scattered to the pillars Each set to wander ash sick and sundered The trine ever flowing, inward and swelling One hunt, one sowing, the last overflowing Brittle embers flicker inside Where blasting suns once raged Starving bitter hands dig cold Warmth just beyond reach The moons mark our harvest, no longer, the hunt Dig, for we hunger, now stone, over feather A husk, staring back Still feral, unbridled, yet slaves, through dominion Though tried by blood and ruled by fire Three circles, three sigils Each to their own, dead to empire We fear the trees, the past lies within Our shadows flat black, tethered by sun Breaking stone we bow to plow and the hearth
plow, hearth, flat, pyre, stone