https://youtu.be/yHVFqg9uwZI

Enjoy this reading of the poem Death of Sturm Brightblade by Michael Williams. This poem first appeared in Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home, released in 1987. Buy Leaves from the Inn of the Last Home: https://amzn.to/39TClwb

Death of Sturm Brightblade

Return this man to Huma's breast:Let him be lost in sunlight,In the chorus of air where breath is translated;At the sky's border receive him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skiesHave you set your lodgings,In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspiresIn an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.

Grant to him a warrior's rest.Above our singing, above song itself,May the ages of peace converge in a day,May he dwell in the heart of Paladine.

And set the last spark of his eyesIn a fixed and holy placeAbove words and the borrowed land too lovedAs we recount the ages.

Free from the smothering clouds of warAs he once rose in infancy,The long world possible and bright before him,Lord Huma, deliver him.

Upon the torches of the starsWas mapped the immaculate glory of childhood;From that wronged and nestling country,Lord Huma, deliver him.

Let the last surge of his breathPerpetuate wine, the attar of flowers;From the vanguard of love, the last to surrender,Lord Huma, deliver him.

Take refuge in the cradling airFrom the heart of the sword descending,From the weight of battle on battle;Lord Huma, deliver him.

Above the dreams of ravens whereHis dreams first tried a rest beyond changing,From the yearning for war and the war's ending,Lord Huma, deliver him.

Only the hawk remembers deathIn a late country; from the dusk,From the fade of the senses, we are thankful that you,Lord Huma, deliver him.

Then let his shade to Huma riseOut of the body of death, of the husk unraveling;From the lodging of mind upon nothing,we are thankful that you,Lord Huma, deliver him.

Beyond the wild, impartial skiesHave you set your lodgings,In cantonments of stars, where the sword aspiresIn an arc of yearning, where we join in singing.

      Return this man to Huma's breast      Beyond the wild, impartial skies;      Grant to him a warrior's rest      And set the last spark of his eyes      Free from the smothering clouds of wars      Upon the torches of the stars.      Let the last surge of his breath      Take refuge in the cradling air      Above the dreams of ravens where      Only the hawk remembers death.      Then let his shade to Huma rise      Beyond the wild, impartial skies.