Dreaming the cosmos in an infinite play


The wind's icy breath o'er the land of death
Tells a tale of the yet to come
'Cross heaving waves which mark's ships' graves
Lies an island known to some.
Where Seas pound loud and rocks stand proud
And blood flows free as water.

To the far northwest which knows no rest,
Came a father and his daughter
The mind was numb, the heart struck dumb,
When the nightseas took the child,
Hurled to her fate, by the son off hellgate,
The Dark One called the Wild.

You whom they seek, thought you do not speak,
The legend is yet to be born;
One day you will sing over stones that are red,
In the misty summer dawn.

Trilogy of The Wild