Conquer must I through the realm
by Angelica Bustle
of brief encounters, lost messages from messengers' old mouths.
I grab my dagger and whirl my fingers with
green light engulfing me
I am shifted from my former, I am moved toward my latter, and
swiftly sleeping my own breath, I command sage king's stringress
to rise, to fall, to kneel, as I regard her one more glance;
White Lady, Lady Death,
thou art from blood and smile the same,
one in death became a Norn,
one in life became a sword.
Dear Lady, Dark Lady, protect your child, your bróðir, your
leave me alone in my knowledge and demand naught from mind
seeking stones in darkened caves, in waters frost above,
stones with hollow meanings for a man that craves your eyes;
hence, he gives you end.
Bong me, hang me, slash him, love him,
'tis sweet pain, sour joy, Fair Lady,
yet I content and pace in equal.
Forge my body, and my thoughts, my spirit blind you with'r cloak
red, crimson of your sins,
that are mine.
My Lady, save me.