There are certain times in your life when you know
It's no longer a matter what you do or what you say
Whatever it is or was has ceased to be.
It could be love it could be death but it is gone.
You must accept this, as that is the way of the Izgorath.
The elders have declared that we must move on
The ancients have guided the elders and they
And only they know the truth.
We lay our head upon the stones at night
And stare up at the moons
And we know because the great god Alibemus
Has shown us the way
The Izgorath are not a nation unto themselves
But an extension of Alibemus’s will
His will is that of the earth and the sky and everything
That makes the wind move yet be unseen
We will not as a people lie down and die
We will remember the warriors and the ponies
That rode into battle. Gray is not the color of our love
Gray is the color of the forgotten ones.
Darkness drives them from the forest and into the light
And then they turn to dust.
Forgive us Alibemus for we know no other way.
We lay ourselves at your feet and pray that our tribe
Will not cease to be.
To be is all we have.
To have is all we hope for.
To Hope is to love.
To love it the Izgorath way.
Copyright © Stephen Kilmer