Deity

In the hush of ancient hills, a deity sighs,
Whispering through mist‑cloaked vales where thunder lies.
Eyes like polished amber scan the shifting tide,
Hands that mould the dawn, where night and day subside.
Worshippers in woollen cloaks kneel upon the heath,
Offering humble praise—faith's quiet, steadfast breath.
Their songs, a lilting chant, drift over moor and glade,
A timeless hymn to the one who forever made.