Baskadia

In my dreams, a fading voice calls upon me from a loud echo,
From a sunless sky, out of the bleak night, a shivering hand reaches out to hold;

From the ground beneath, shreds of fog rises to seal me within
As my feet stomps on charred bones

I stretch my arms forward and give command;
rise, o charred bones
rise, o fallen; soldiers, princes and peasants alike. Rise!

An army forms around me, not of flesh and blood
An army forms around me, of bones and rotten armour
Battle awaits, we March!
Who can defeat what is dead?
Battle awaits, we march!
Of what consequence is flaming arrows against dead and already burnt bones?

Kudi Msughter
20. May.23
From a Dream Half Remembered.