The Lady in the Fountain

She is the face in the water.

Hers is the voice in the mountain;

The eye in the sword, first witness to blood

As it flows from Her mouth as a crack ‘fore the flood.

She is the last Hand of the Father.

Vilaya the Lady of Order,

Vilaya that sleeps in the fountain.

No evil shall stand nor may crawl in Her sight;

No darkness is suffered to stifle Her light,

And we as Her maidens stand for Her.

We are the sisters beneath Her.

We are the joints of Her fingers.

We are the strength and the force in Her blade.

We are the shield that Her mission has made.

Our lives and our hearts we bequeath Her.

Vilaya, the Patron of Justice,

Vilaya—whose voice as yet lingers—

We receive Her in echoes of e’er-lasting might.

Our backs do not bend as we stand through Her night.

For we as Her servants do trust this:

Shall She who swings down the grave-maker's blade,

And shall She who empties the dirt from the spade,

And sendeth the Enemy onto the block,

Not forget we who stand strong as key to Her lock.

In death shall we rise,

Yea, ever we rise,

By Her breath shall we rise,

And in us Eternity made.