Oh, we, of empty hands
Oh. we, children of calamity
How could we have known
That it would have come to this?
We are overcome in the wake of your passing
Struggling forms sifting
Through shadows, searching
Many are the voices of the dead
The severed kin forgotten
Betrayed, ghost voices among the ashes
Ever calling to us on the wind
An now by those sinew holds the hand that guides the arrow?
Whose lore to we inherit, the scavengers of dreams?
We tremble in the blackness in the paling of our marrow
As we fill our throats with earth in hope the elder voices become our own