The Rising Wind


I Órë Súrë

Apa rimpa rámar sa lirusta

Fëastaldar loapoldorë

Tá imi i vilya


Tamminsúrë astova

Lanyalte ter fanyar

Ar yanwë i hellër


Moina Voronwa

Ámër etelehtar sancëva tennar

Ecelli úoi, an meldenaitër anna turyandë

On rushing wings that chant

Valiant souls grow strong

High in the air


Wind-forged from dust

They weave through clouds

And bridge the skies


Familiar patience

Delivers us from hateful thoughts

Forsaken never, for true friends give encouragement

© 2020 Rahaman Writing

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Still unsure if you should subscribe? Here's an excerpt from this newsletter's ongoing series:

"One such Spark, but a mere fraction of Order, became the source for all we know upon Okeanós. While spinning and soaring through the many violent tendrils of Chaos, this particular Spark willed for it to stop; for the madness and rushing of void mixed with explosions of light to cease. So it forced the chaotic clouds around itself to shift into a pattern. It gave reason and rhythm to the matter and energy, previously untamed, until the void and light coarsed together, in harmony, at the weaving will of this Spark. Near the bottom of the page sharing this information, it is mentioned that there was a ‘God’ who had succumbed to a Chaos-stricken madness following the learning of these details. How they transferred the information, and what became of them, is not mentioned until the reference section, which I shall get to a bit later, as they warrant explanation as well..."