She is
The Keeper of the Flame.
A beacon, on an ancient grave.
Upon the earth
where wild things roam.
She takes her rest
under the Sun.

And then at night,
under the moon.
She sits beside
the cold stone tombs.
Guided by awoken dreams,
reflected faces in the stream.

And as the wolves
begin to howl.
She's searching,
for the sacred owl.
The knowing eyes,
that guide the way.
The wind upon
eternal flames.

The winds that whistle
in her ear.
The voice, that always
draws her here.
Upon the earth,
where wild things lie.
She tends the flame
and wonders why.