Timmain: The Calling
Timmain, Shape-Shifter, your people are exiles.
Wandering aimless, your people are lost.
Hated and hunted, with fear their companion,
Chilled by the windstorm and pierced by the frost.
Timmain, Shape-Changer, your people are dying.
You cannot harden your heart to their cry.
See how the snow and their enemies slay them.
Timmain, oh Timmain, can you watch them die?
Timmain, Change-Maker, your shape is a new one.
Sharp-toothed and keen-nosed, at one with the storm.
Hunter to track down the life for your people,
Finding the shelter to keep your folk warm.
Timmain, Self-Changer, is gone through the Springtime.
Summer fast follows, and Fall runs behind.
She hunts with the wolfpack, accepts them as kindred.
And builds her own world now away from elfkind.
Timmain, the Wolf-Shaped, has sent them a leader:
Wolf-blooded elfchild, young Timmorn, her pride.
Duty fulfilled, she returns to the hunters --
Wild heart within her no longer denied.
 HuntressFrost · Fri Jan 25, 2008 @ 05:17am · 0 Comments |
