Born of flesh.

Born of blood.

I was fed milk and bread.

Till I could feed with my own hand.

 

Born to into a land of what is fare or not clear.

Into a land as bare.

Land as clear and bare as a babe’s palm.

 

Land of possibilities.

Land with hostilities.

Land I am to toil with responsibilities.

 

Under a sun so round.

Sun as hot.

Sun as round and hot as vapour from hades’s cooking pot.

 

I am a son of strength.

The strength of iron.

I am a son filled with the strength of man and iron.

 

Born of this land.

Into the land of sand.

Land fields of sand made of iron.

 

I, son of iron.

I have to work these fields made of iron.

Whilst I sweat, facing the sun whose rays are as piercing as iron.

 

I, son of iron, I will work the fields of iron and face the sun of iron.

I am determined and will quake the gates, even of Zion.

And make everything in it shake to feel my presence as I roar, though I am a man and not a lion.

 

I, son of iron, born of flesh, blood and iron.

I work these fields of iron, to conquer my path and roar back to the sun of iron till he hears my voice.

 

 

Asford psalms.

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