Storm of Silver

by Niyol of Eleusis

I was born where spirit dreams,
where the green remembers every name,
where trails hum beneath soft rain
and the song of roots and soul endures.

I was leaf,
I was loam,
I was the balance here and now
breathing with the forests pulse,
listening for the silence between heartbeats.

Then silver fire kissed my spirit,
split the vale,
and clouds above answered in thundered song.
Storm became breath,
breath became form
and I was no longer bound.

Like mirrored rainclouds, my wings unfurled;
the air itself bent to my will,
shimmering with memory and might.

Now I roam the high unseen,
the storm my counsel,
the earth my kin.
And when the trees call my name again,
they whisper not to a ranger
but to the Silver who still remembers
the song beneath the roots.

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Aeguary, in the year 989 AF.