The world is bound in secret knots,
By threads of flame and shadow spun;
The stars are hung on quiet thoughts
That pass between the moon and sun.

Beneath the roots, the old gods sleep,
Their breath a mist in earthen veins;
They whisper truths the oceans keep
In songs that echo when it rains.

A lantern swings in unseen hands
Above the paths we dare not chart;
It lights the law no soul commands,
Yet burns its glyphs into the heart.

The hawk is drawn by unseen lines,
The oak bends not to wind alone;
All things obey those deep designs
That turn the seed to flesh and bone.

So trust the dark, and trust the flames,
And trust the silence in between—
For all is named, with unheard names,
In realms that move, but stay unseen.