heavy with the scent of jasmine,
the tepid air of seclusion
in my private garden,
a presence, pure life,


a fog rolls in from the sea
blind unrest, fear
a silhouette
the weight of uncertainty


lightning slays the night,
Thor blasts his anvil,
violence breached, tamed,
peace, solitude


a star blinks between mottled clouds,
a beacon from the distance,
an alternate universe,
another time


Two songs from the Cult of Hahn

[1] Beware, Cyrus
Of Hora in her time
With one hand she brings life
while the other takes it away.

From The Book of Cyrus, Songs of the Tioch, ch. 1, verse 1

18] The Sycla traversed the rooftops
slaughtering the Cult and Tioch alike
Even the Sholoch suffered great losses.

[19] An airbourne enemy to all,
they fought with daggers,
but purged with fire.

From The Book of Cyrus, Book of the Great War, ch. 7, verses 18-19