Stride into the dark blue night;
sprint among the fallen and smite,
the peeling forest and withered wood,
the battling weather--they withstood.
Break the oak of the woodland’s door,
make what once was be no more,
the falling timber and groaning corpse,
watch as the warm, damp, wood warps.
Be the fire that falls from beyond,
strip the moss the trees have donned.
fly across the earthy lake,
drowning in the endless wake.