The Child of Storms

 
You know I see you, child.
You bring and take with you
the ferocity of storms,
with the unblinking calm
in the central third eye.


No time for farewells, child.
Take the leather pouch, housing
this silver blade. It shines
its own version of reality,
lest you need to settle old debts.


The burden of each step weathers
you — poised on the blade, you
earn another layer of strength
or you break. Your own thoughts
can destroy you; follow the silence.


For each trail, there is a price.
This vial holds the blood of elders;
when the time comes, smear it
from jaw to eye and remember
who you are, where you came from.


Be well, child. Now go.










Entered in 'Opposite Categories' comp, under "upbeat and dark".