Child of destiny, fate in thy hand,
Power and longing upon the land,
Truth to thy left, honor to thy right,
Her gift to thee, a spear of Light;
What say thee, son, a changeling sure?
What say thee, son, in deference to Her?
Songs of faery in thy heart,
Touch of giants sketch thy art:
One to each, yet one to all --
Ye are the one that Spirit called.
Who are thee, son, a changeling sure?
Who are thee, son, in deference to Her?
Mending the weave of Earth’s torn spark,
Ye hold the Goddess’s own true mark,
:Light of healing, Light of war:
Tis thine to open that mystic Door.
How choose thee, son, a changeling sure?
How choose thee, son, in deference to Her?
Of times gone past, and times returned,
Seekers study to discern
The truth Fey-written upon thy Spear:
"If used against any, ‘twill disappear."
Where dance thee, now, my changeling pure?
Where dance thee, now, in deference to Her?