True to the Voices of Old

Spiritual hunger clawing at my being, no rest
I look to the trees, to the earth, I sing their names
Bound to this host, to old Jǫrð, a true pagans test
With my head held high, I walk through these flames
Ebbing and flowing with the tides of the forgotten
Yet I stay true to this path, true to the voices of old
I relinquish the flesh, blessings of yore are begotten
And with the morning light, I am no longer alone and cold
The abandoned son is now welcomed back home
Yet the world surrounding demands regressive obedience
Chanting continues to conjure the power of the sacred tome
And as I fight for my own life, I am branded with deviance