Father

The cold wind of fate hits my face roughed by life
My fylgjia of wounded animal hath rested afar in lost paths

The structure of this loss voids the senses cutting off all breath
Upon a throne of fire he rests, the one who bequeathed his blood to me

I have awaken to a vast dream, In which I know I cannot fail you
Even if the wind chaps all my skin, my souls remains that of a son

Father!

I awaited you in dreams, from the exile of your presence
But as you stand in front of me, frailty forced me into silence

Thus I write on endless sand every single sentiment
Hoping that the timeless spiral repeats it to the universe

I have awaken to a vast dream, In which I know I cannot fail you
Even if the wind chaps all my skin, my souls remains that of a son

I'll wait for you next time we begin, be it as child or as father
Even if the wind chaps all my skin, my souls remains that of a son