Weaving The Incantation

A mind dejected, blood boiling with anger

the storm of the warpath, now sings in my heart

your pleadings, useless, I now shall disregard

I'll leave you to weep and to fear for me

I'm ready for my end

my hair I comb down

with resin into braids

I'm ready to ascend

my will burning high

summon strength from the night

I equip myself, to warfare I prepare

I put on my black cloak, enchanted adders skins

your prayers shall not reach into my heart

your despair shall not stop me now

This precious hairbrush, thrown at the wall

it came to me from my father

I give you this as a token of myself

for you to have and mourn over

And when my blood flows from it's bristles

when my sap is dripping from it's shaft

then you will know of my anguish

my destruction will be revealed