Cusp of the Moon IV…


When ravens

In battle-torment

For torn-flesh fight…

 Morvran, my horse

Firm-hoofed in stance

 Is indisposed to flight.


 Splendid my saddle

  And bright never sore

Polished my ring,

  Blameless, pure.


 When ravens

Over battle-field

Scream for strife…

Dormath my hound

Noses the green floor

His red gaze to ground.


Escort am I

For the grave

East to West


North to South

Alive am I,

Safe in death…



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