By the glistening Lochs,
where grief smells like peat
and ancient rain—
this is where you set me free.
The dust was cast
to the throat of the gale—
it was cold, salt-stung,
primordial and pale.
Heather and mist,
moss and ash;
against the granite,
the wild waves crashed.
I’ve come to life
in those waters and winds…
flown to the mountains
the Old Gods endure within.
My Spirit has followed
in Gaia’s footsteps…
I’ve returned
to every root and river
that remembers my name.
It waits, in stone,
this life of peace.
It moves, where the
phantom of freedom
still breathes.
It will find me again,
this life of peace.
