Mortal
You aspire to become
Τhe arrow that teaches
The embodiment of virtue
The carrier of Logos
To voyage into uncharted expanses
And wage war on the Old Gods
Yet, mortal
Your words are nought
Your light is pallid
Your armor is cracked
Unless you thrust at yourself
First
The sword that you wield
For even the smallest body
And the faintest voice
Can ripple dimensions apart
Should their aim strike true enough
A single day
In two years of darkness