⚜️ THE ETERNAL CALL ⚜️

⚜ THE ETERNAL CALL ⚜ I am the Highlander, my fathers’ pride. My step, the thunder on the eagle's crest. But now I cast my stubborn will aside And seek the valley, where the worlds can rest. I long to join the source, a child anew, To feel the breath of Mother Earth revive. But from the Council, I have brought the doom— A sentence that no spirit can survive. I saw the elders, saw their shoulders bent, Bowed by a weight that was not theirs to bear. From Northern lands, a foreign, killing scent Is sent to shroud our lucid, endless air. They bring the yoke of gods we do not know; Our laughter, cutting silence, they despise. Their minds are bent, and all too keen to go And break the living land before our eyes. Why break the threshold of another’s home? Why trample on the grace another finds? They do not hear the mountain's breathing poem, The stream’s call never reaches to their minds. They find no joy in life, but power’s sting; They need the slave who bows before the throne. They do not flinch to see the children bring A silent question, like an arrow thrown. Oh, children! How your fate has burned my hand! You, who would run with barefoot, joyful feet To drink the world, a fire in the land, That speaks in dreams and makes the air so sweet. Must your clear song be shattered and undone By some cold, soulless, stony refrain? Must your bright, crystal flight, though just begun, Be broken, never to ascend again? All crumbles. There is no one left to save. The ancient mountain spirit let us fall. The God we carried with us to the grave Has failed to shield us from this burning pall. And so I walk. Not to the fight—it's lost. I am returning to my Mother's breast. Not as a phantom, from the living tossed, But as an endless part of her dark rest. I ask for neither paradise nor peace. My heaven is the crystal of the stream, The smoke that drifts above the mountain's fleece, The very pain that I have now become. I have no need for any shining height. My soul desires to sprout, just as a seed. Let wind disperse my dust into the night, To fall as salty tears on which to feed. Let worms now weave my flesh into the loom That binds tomorrow to our yesterday. I won't be dead—I'll echo from the gloom, A living ember, fading not away. Oh, Future! If within that world of grey, Where light is lost and all the air is dead, You dream about our home of green one day, Our laughter, and our undivided bread— Then come you here. Lie on the ancient stone That still recalls the tread of feet so free. And you will grasp what means to be Her own, To drink her fate, her pain, her destiny. We lost the fight. 'Tis true. But I'm no slave. I was a Highlander. I Am. The truth is here. My spirit is not dust to fill a grave, It's in the root, the stone. It holds no fear. I am returning, Mother, home to Thee. From chains, to join Your flesh, Your eternal fold. hashtags #TheEternalCall #IAm #Highlander #Homecoming #SpiritOfTheEarth #MotherEarth #ToBecomeTheEarth #RefusingHeaven #ThereIsNoDeath #TheBattleIsLost #NotASlave #AncestralMemory #VelantrimCulture #Velantrians #EpicPoem