Wearily

Jan:

Wearily the carriage took me back to a village life where petty minded
people think small thoughts

I fell in line, beaten down, a broken man, working hard, drowning
in the average again

I lost myself, as I served the Duchy's wide estates, a steward's post
small recompense for all I could have been

A bitter man, a magistrate of foul repute
I punished all before me, a wounded man striking out

I was lost... I lost myself

Then an inner spark, a ghost of hope once thought forlorn
A chance encounter late one night coming off the moor
A wizened man, familiar yet unknown to me
recounted tales of bargains struck in a moonlit Wistman's Wood

These Older Ways, before the Crown, before their Church
The Heathen Hills have seen it all, their ancient magic lingers still
To Crockern Tor, I took myself without delay
A lost soul's search for wisdom and the faith that I had lacked

Belief, all I need
Belief, in me