Oh, man of dreams who speaks

Forgotten truths with all they seek;

Your visions have not gone awry,

Tell your sight without their lies.

Wandering poet, you speak beauty with

Your silver tongue, a lovely myth.

Another time will come anon; you

Will light the spirit too.

Weaver of myths, you lack not pith,

Preach your tales: fae, Thor, and Lilith.

Guide your pens and spill your ink,

Mind not what the heretics think.

Teller of tales who lights abandoned lamps,

Prophesy around your towns and camps.

Live your stories that they might live in you,

May you too be remembered for what you do.

Lively bard who sings forgotten songs,

May you bring your audience along

To see the lives of those long gone.

Keep your lyres and sing the sun.

All of you from times untold,

Carry your stories, live, be bold!

Upon you rests the human race,

The gods, the heavens, and all of space.

Sing once more, do not go mute—

Tell your tales and play your lute.

Together we can make anew

The ancient myths that we hold true.