The vassal enclosure of time
I swear to you—though winds may howl,
Though earth may crack and heavens scowl—
No tide shall break me, no pyre consume,
While my blood runs, no doom shall loom.
If wolves surround us, teeth like knives,
If hope is ash and fear survives,
Then let the dark come—I’ll be the spark,
The shield, the sword, the arrow’s arc.
Clench your fists. Don’t look away.
The night is long, but not the day.
This oath is written, not in dust—
In bone. In fire. In sacred trust.
So when the last light trembles, small,
When mountains shake and ramparts fall,
Know this: I’ll stand where shadows pour—
I keep my vows… or burn no more.
