The North

Photo by Todd McKinley

Oh to the North I am called,

Upon a voice full of ice and snow.

Between the mountains Atrox I am drawn to begin.

Foot upon foot, step upon wintery step.

Where creatures of ice and starvation thrive, and the green world shrinks from view.

Home.

I am called home, upon a voice of ice and snow.

To the North.

Beings that dwell within caves of heat and labyrinths so deep they find the very roots of the earth.

Tall men with eyes of white commune with spirits of light.

Upon voices of ice and snow.

They beckon me to go,

North.

Home.

I will be one burdened with a secret dripping of lies,

Whispered to by ghosts of old.

A secret that will bring down the world, and raise the very mountains to the ground.

Some call me Truth-sayer, some liar.

But I have touched the light of eternity.

Infinity has swallowed my eyes, blurring my vision and bestowing Their own.

My tongue is set upon Their breath, a burning sheet of ice.

And now I see and speak as the gods do

Here in the North.

Where I am called.

For I am a Seer.

-M.E. InkOwl


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