Margit, Fell Omen

At the gate where the black grass bends

A long horn cuts through the weather

He stands with a crown of twisted gold

And a cloak stitched up from leather

His staff leaves dents in the frozen road

His eyes hold a warning there

“Turn back now, little lord,” he says

“But I’m already in your care”

Margit, fell omen, keeper of the climb

You weigh every promise and measure every crime

With a hammer in your hand and the old world in your stare

You make a man face the burden he was born to bear

I came with a borrowed blade

And a map gone soft with rain

He met me where the stones run red

And called my courage vain

Then the hammer fell like a church bell’s grief

The hill shook under my feet

Still I rose with the dust in my mouth

And a vow I would not retreat

Margit, fell omen, keeper of the climb

You weigh every promise and measure every crime

With a hammer in your hand and the old world in your stare

You make a man face the burden he was born to bear

No crown comes clean, no road runs straight

No pilgrim walks unscarred

You guard the threshold, stern and still

A gate no prayer can guard

Margit, fell omen, keeper of the climb

You weigh every promise and measure every crime

With a hammer in your hand and the old world in your stare

You make a man face the burden he was born to bear

At the gate where the black grass bends

The wind keeps your name there