by John Wyatt
The Shaman sits in his
small cave, drawing Arcane symbols;
Read by the Gods that they may do
The Shamanís Will.
The Gods are implacable
They do not their own will, but ours.
Outside, the Faithful wait,
Eager to receive their gifts from the
Hungrily, they wait to hear their Godís Voice
Speaking the Shamanís
To our eternal
The language of the Gods is not ours;
So ever the Shaman sits,
Patiently encoding human thought into the
Cryptic tongue of the