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I was baptized in the howls of wolves, under the lattice of thorns of ancient winds,
My veins are mapped by serpents, my pulse beats to the rhythm of forgotten beasts,
All who fear kneel, but I stand untamed in the midst of the storm,
Unsculpted by the hand of time, unyielding in the face of attempts to shape me.
Every scar on my skin is an earth-shaking howl that cannot be silenced,
Every breath I take is a hurricane born from the depths of my being,
In forests hidden by the shadows of ages, I rise like a primordial cry,
My crown is woven from winds that have danced with ever-changing leaves.
The whispered tales of forgotten creatures flow through my veins like ancient rivers,
I am sculpted by the storm, untouched by the hand that tries to mold me,
Every mark on my skin speaks of battles fought in the silence of long nights,
And each breath carries the force of a hurricane ready to unleash itself.
I am the one who stands proud between howls and winds, between scars and untamed storm,
An echo of the past that refuses to be forgotten, a soul vibrating with the power of beings,
In the wilderness where others bow, I remain, rising wild and untamed,
For I am the one who stands proud between howls and wind, between scars and storm.

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