We carve what remains upon sacred firmament
Stripped yawning willow and immovable blackened stone
From where a dragon’s fire spilled upon the land, and on its back we rode

We follow the oak’s whisper in the wind, and all meet once again
And so it shall be until the end of time, for we are neither here nor there
As the note is plucked from seer’s heavenly harp

So too shall we scribe upon what lasts not
As our tracks are covered by snow and rain
To be washed away, but within the memory of the oak, all shall be remembered forever

© Sayer Teller

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