The True Heart

One fair wind and the wind-apples grow,
Green are the hills, stone rivers flow,
Stone-ancient sun so sweet and binding,
A gash of light atop black years,
Grey flood-waters eternally winding.

Green is the promise of eternal spring,
Green is a well hidden all these years,
Grey is the mist stealing swords from men,
Green is mother’s son.

Sung in the equinox’s ring,
Glittering green dragon winds into morning,
Time-worn swords, two in death hold hands,
A draught and measure for the battle crow’s balance,
blood river’s wedding bands.

Gray is a year upon my hands,
Gray is the death-call of the mothers' tears,
Red is the vengeance of the sun's sword,
Gray is the night's eyes.

Sweet is the earth's tie on endless waves,
Twisting swords feed the cycles of fate's oath,
Epona-moon bright over sea and fortress,
No wind, ever fire, the earth stained red,
Fire upon gray stone, the earth's mistress.

Red is the blood and fire of the sea,
Red is the boy yet to be a man, doomed to die,
Black is fate under sun’s arrows,
Red is an arrow true in flight.

Straight black-winged storm cries true for blood,
Encircled in a heart of fire and blue storm-cloud,
Ever-encompassing rain washes light-bleahed bone,
Strong arm of the king entombed in flame,
Red flame of the king bright against stone.

Black is the tree where all souls pass,
Black is the herald of stony death,
White is the promise under endless mist,
Black is the true heart.