Glory to Morrigan
Eidolon sovereign
of blooded battlefields

Rich soil, soaked through.
Everything grows where death walked.

Queen of the Cycle
Rebirthing yourself anew

Year after year
day after day
my devotion grows
out of blood-soaked clay

Shall I offer whiskey,
that you may sleep and leave the world in peace?

No
I think I shall offer coffee
That you may have the energy
to do what needs to be done

Shining edge, gleaming steel
cuts away what doesn’t belong
It’s finished now
It’s done.