Praise Storms' Master
but so is the snow-white bliss of wisdom and righteousness.
The flashing blade that strikes out against evil is His son,
but so is the honey-tongued psalmster of mirthful glory.
The fur and claw toothed bear of ferocity is His son,
but so is the silent, ever-waiting wooded one,
who shall the end of times redeem.
He births the fury whose name is vengeance,
restoring honor to the injured kin,
but so He calls into his castle the bright, fecundous
lord of feasts and frithful harvests.
He fosters the fire who all watching wards the hearth of homes,
but so he fosters the shining soul of the most widely traveled.
His home is a home of heroes,
His star-tower a wizard's yeshiva.
His throne an all-worlds observatory.
Storms' Master, He unleashes the might
and rush of wisdom's inspiration
all against the up-spiral'd life-tree's foes.
What He holds in one hand, He other hand tempers ;
the half His vision outwards, the other inward-depths is drawn.
He is the wise passion of moderation
having found its fullness,
the all-worlds' chaos given shape and found form,
the seed of spirit sown in matter,
uprising in the the mead of inspiration.
Praise this over-arching Breath between
the many heavens' worlds,
who all around bestows His Spirit.