Prompt:“The Roots Beneath”
(dark folk / ancient storytelling / slow tribal rhythm)
Verse 1
An old man came through the winter rain
With a sack of bones and a crooked cane
Dogs went silent when he passed by
Like they knew his face from another sky
He sat by the fire in the lantern glow
Spoke strange words nobody knew
“Wódr̥…”
And the kettle shook on the burning stone
Like the water heard its ancient home
Pre-Chorus
The priest said
“Witch.”
The children said
“Ghost.”
But the blacksmith’s daughter listened most
Chorus
Bher… bher…
Carry the flame
Carry the old forgotten names
Under the roads
Under the walls
The first words still remember us all
Verse 2
He touched the sparks with a weathered hand
Said fire once answered every man
“H₁n̥gʷnis…”
And the room went still as a frozen lake
While the rafters groaned and the shadows swayed
Outside the snow fell out of season
Nobody spoke
Nobody breathed
Chorus
Bher… bher…
Carry the sound
Buried beneath the holy ground
Mother and river
Ash and stone
Nothing was ever truly gone
Bridge
“Your words are broken pieces now…”
The old man said into the smoke
“Once they were alive.”
Méh₂tēr…
Ph₂tḗr…
Wódr̥…
Weyd…
The blacksmith’s daughter closed her eyes
And heard the mountains answer back
Final Chorus
Bher… bher…
Carry the fire
Carry the bones of the ancient choir
Long before crowns
Long before gold
The world itself was being told
Outro
The old man vanished in the snow
Where the black pine shadows grow
But sometimes when the cold winds stir
The village still remembers him
Speaking softly to the storm
In words older than God.
