The Baying

huntsmall

Far in the distance
Deep in the forest
I hear their baying
I hear the horns blow
The Tempest stirs
The leaves slowly fall
Soon the forest will be fire
Shadow will blanket the land
The Huntsman opens his eye
Change is upon us
It will not come forth
One must seek it
One must take it
At the point of a spear
The horns blow in the distance
The hounds bay
The Hunt comes upon us
With anticipation my soul waits
With longing my heart hungers
Each day
The horns grow louder
The hounds come closer
I ready my spirit
To join the wild chase
With patience
I await The Wild Hunt

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