look for me awake

I struggle to escape the weariness, the fever my altar the bleak soil the offering fresh heather whispers are drowned in sweat I curse not as I rave and hollowed eyes mind their lore the wintry moon is what I crave still, I look out upon the wind at war with all, at war with peace as sages look the moors for their lore the only thing you need to know is this: when darkness comes hold torches blazing or else forever lose your way...