Wake of Arson

Not savage eagle’s prey nor hunter’s meat,
The turbulent wind lifts you far on high,
Through winter chill or searing summer heat,
The turbulent wind lifts you far on high,

Better to flee your home than be outcast,
The life before you is your paradise,
Above grey clouds you’ll soar in flight at last,
You soar above red sand and blue-white ice,

Now leave behind a life that’s closing in,
Steel nights of silent pain; bronze days of rage,
Rise from your bed, worn body, and frayed skin,
Open the book of shadows; turn the page,

Fly free of summer’s burn and winter’s bite,
On swift storm winds soar jubilant in flight.