many winters winds have whipped me
unseen runes of those who drew me
rested in the bark of copper
left behind by a long lost writer
concealed in a plume of birches
waiting for the ones who find me
ancient magic communication
bound by the arrows of god
wisdom from the past within me
i can be your guide or master
am i spell or am i promise?
will you heed my words?
many summers suns have blessed me
unread truths of those who drew me
scrawled into the riven driftwood
locked inside a secret language
exhumed into an older future
waiting in the earth above me
occult forms of conversation
sealed by the sign of god
hidden in a woodland coastline
i can be your spell or sermon
am i oath or am i omen?
will you know my name?