In case you ever again enter
the winter of forgotten things,


You are of the transcendent.
You are of the wild and hopeful,
of the beautiful and terrifying Light.
You are of the rising storm.

You are of the running herd,
and hawk on the wing,
and fin cutting the waves,
and the pack-howl at night.

You are cloaked in honor,
you are of the ardent-hearted,
and the sword and the plough
and of the green, growing things.

You speak for those who have no voice.

You are worthy, and I am worthy,
and every single thing is worthy,
and it was deemed so
in the forges of fading suns
containing every single atom
of yourself
and myself,
aeons ago.

In case you ever forget-
are you listening?


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