Some are led to lead us, ascending as we climb,
Overcoming mountains as we follow close behind,
Maps may slow or speed us; the path is rarely clear,
Every climber ultimately braves his own frontier,
Rising to the summit, we drink a frosty view,
Lift thy head, the firmament, a deep and cloudless blue,
Empty to our naked eyes, oft our vision seems,
Dusk reweaves a tapestry of gossamer and dreams,

Dreams of fire, daemon choirs, power everlasting,
Evil cornucopia: thine but for the asking,
Leave the lesser beasts behind, dogs saluting trees,
Rabid, barking mongrels just as sharp as cottage cheese,
Exorcise what haunts thee; erelong strength shall descend,
Meeting where our faiths demark us enemy or friend,
Opening thy shuttered skull, forcing wide the door,
Struck by possibilities ye had not felt before.

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Glacian, in the year 664 AF.