Mindstate74

The field had changed, but not the sky
the moon hung low like an open eye
the wind still carried leathered hymns
just louder now, on broader limbs

The pilgrims walked in broken rhythm
two steps forward, one step back
their boots a map of old devotion
scored in dust and midnight black

M’era Luna rising
a dawn of shadows burning wide
a kingdom built from whispered nights
where all our younger ghosts reside
M’era Luna rising
from the ashes of the small
and still within its blazing heart
the dream that started it all

The camps became a moving city
a thousand stories stitched in tents
the laughter drifting through the smoke
felt older than the firmament

And somewhere in the glowing distance
a shout broke through the velvet air
a joke, a ritual, a beacon
that every wanderer learned to share

Helga echoing the twilight
rolling wild across the plain
a calling card of drunken fortune
a charm against the creeping rain

M’era Luna rising
a dawn of shadows burning wide
a kingdom built from whispered nights
where all our younger ghosts reside
M’era Luna rising
from the ashes of the small
and still within its blazing heart
the dream that started it all

We felt the ground shift underneath
yet nothing precious slipped away
the roots of Zillo held their shape
as new horizons met the day

A larger stage, a wider hunger
but in the pounding of the drums
we heard the pulse of every year
that carried us to what we’d become

M’era Luna rising
an anthem carved in lunar flame
we walked the line from then to now
and whispered gently the old name
M’era Luna rising
still keeps the shadows by our side
for every soul who once was lost
but found a place to rise