IN STERQUILINIIS INVENITUR Cutting through the stale fog The tempest comes as I walk From a great wind The mute's curtain falls Suddenly the voice of an avalanche calls From the shade, a forming face roars Pulling back four horses whipped to quarter Channeling heart from a time before Tyrant forced beyond their border Beyond the walls built by bricks of order Heeding not the wind nor hail I cannot stay, I must go forward Humbled by primordial madness Freed from a crushing stasis The soul is now braver Though old nature hits like crushing hail May the suffering strengthen the course