Hold on, sweet souls—
the River will carry you,
far beyond the land of men,
to the furthest limits
of the deep-running Ocean.
that all of us will be carried down
to rest for eternity.

You must go down
to the House of Death,
to stand before the awesome one.
But you will not be alone—
no, not alone.

I swear
by the grimmest oath
that binds the happy gods—
I swear it true
a most sacred vow,
by the black waters below:
all of us will be carried down.

In the silent dark before dawn
a furious storm
lit the sky,
and sheets of rain
poured down in seconds.
Cypress's cracked, splintered, bent
upstream the current ran strong.

The river swelled and roared—
a Goddess unchained—
and the life giving water
swallowed everything whole
yet, here they stand before me
perfect phantoms in time:

“ghosts of the dead:
brides and young men,
old ones worn by grief,
and tender girls
with hearts still new to sorrow.”

Tell me, how do I find my way home?