
Silent Guardians
From ancient graves
Stone and earth
With raised staves;
And a notched blade
To call to blood
Red on black
Life’s true flood.
Three times three days
To seek for lore
Wisdom and secrets
Of old times of yore.
And a bone white throne
For Death’s visage,
Mettle of spirit
Trial of lineage.
Mark the anointed
Stains in a Stone of Fate;
Awakened, aware,
Eyes that once beheld the Gate.