The Crown of Spirit

The Crown of Spirit

He wove her name by fate,
Thunder stirred her blood:
She would ride to him yet
But her hand was stilled.

Her gaze drove back mist
From hours of waiting,
Drawn by his unspoken promise—
A whisper of a dream, a storm.

Winter would teach the rite
That cobbles the boot of memory.
A soul in silence will grow wings,
And the heart will forge arrows.

You have shattered my night into silver
With the crown of spirit that You
Planted on my brow along with murmurs
From every ancient vow.

You have thundered on chariots of foam,
Rising from the froth of the ocean,
Sweeping past the ruins of time
Twined in the gardens of the abyss.

You have awakened my legend,
My sleeping name, through the roaring
Of Your every hidden trumpet
Sounding from caves of endless birth.

O Ancient King, deliver me to the crown
Of Your Spirit where breath and blaze
Quicken the bones sleeping in the vault
Of a planet cradled in riddle and roar.