The Art of Words: A Father’s Lament

After Taranis’s Exile

The wind mourns,

through the ancient trees,
Whispering tales of broken kin,
A son cast out beyond the flame,
Where shadows dwell and wild beasts grin.

The fire we built,

Now cold and dim,
The bond once strong,

now stretched and torn.
I sent you forth, my blood and bone,
To face the night, alone, forlorn.

Yet in the stars, your name still burns,
A flicker bright against the dark.
Though exiled from the hearth’s warm heart,
You carry still our family’s mark.

Run swift, my son, through storm and stone,
May strength be yours when paths grow rough.
The wolf still howls within your blood,
And I, your father, watch from dusk.

One day the earth may shift again,
And bring you back where you belong.
Until that time, beneath the sky,
I sing this lonely, bitter song.

© written by ELHewitt

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Taranis and the Bone Wolf: A Night of Survival

The fire that ran from the sky