Ashes fall from a broken sky
In this land of ancients who refuse to die
They have no piece no final hour
No drive but lust for place and power
They journey under burning noon
And find their power beneath the moon
So watch the hunter watch the prey
And watch the Bain of night and day
For in this cycle another is found
The cycle of what powers abound
For when one grows the other falls
But in the end the balance calls
So both remain forever more
And between them is this endless war


Penned by my hand on Kinsday, the 7th of Chakros, in the year 495 MA.