Prayer Song VI:
Takoja Ianikuinen, the Primeval Blacksmith
O great father of genesis, forger of the earth's bones and the
tripled moons,
Let your wrath right that askew throne so that the beauty may submit.
On the first day, you forged a golden bow with lunar gleam, a weapon meant to strike down your foes.
Yet while you hunted, your bow was stolen, and now your enemy brandishes it as their own.
On the second day, you forged a great chariot, its moonlit glimmer meant to guard your home.
Yet while you hunted, your wain was purloined, and your enemy claimed it as their own.
On the third day, you forged a shuttle of moonlight, your heart set on the daughter of the stars.
Yet in your recklessness, you wandered into a fog-drenched swamp, and the forge of light was quenched.
You are the king spoken of yet unspeakable, O bloodthirsty, murderous blacksmith,
You are the master of misfortune, the lord of all evil, obsessed with the unjust deaths of the innocent and the ruinous fires of war.
O terrible and mighty Eternal Workman, lord of two natures,
So strong, hale, and heroic as the gods themselves. Even the stars look upon you in awe.
O indestructible Lord, please quiet this earth-shaking wrath.
Lift the torment that occupies my heart and cast out this
pitch-black disaster.