A ceiling above me, an Ocean of Endless Night, carried by the Olden Oak of Time. I’ve seen beyond the dome of your heaven, I’ve seen the dwellings of the Skyfolk.

The gaze of the Elder Gods, the concealed lights. Wish we may, to travel by starlit night.

Below the branches of the churning heavens, a Shadow, a Bridge of Souls, pointing out the way.

I cut down the Oak, the path of the Primal Sea. The light now shines to the Human Child. A Branch of Paradise, a Leaf of Longing Love, the Witches Arrow and Weapons of the Wicked.

A Golden Fruit of Knowledge, a Wheel of Constructive Gold, from the Birds passing mouth; Flow the Silver Bowl.

A Basket of Bronze, the Earth’s evergrowing Gift, Below the Frigid Ocean of vast eternal night.

Towards the Heavens, under the branches, the Child of Man shall recognize his god. The eternal bleeding that cut down the mightiest Oak, a gray living tomb, our Destiny / our Fate..

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