At the Gates (Sig:Ar:Tyr)

I stand before thee, Father of all that seeks A spirit forged from the depths of chaos Primordial echoes of a dying race Scream like soulless wraiths of what once was The gates stand closed to the lesser ones Forgotten in time, shunned by the light, and the dark Their blood is weak, impure and faded None shall pass, the twisted iron, and the one eye The price of being, is to become and behold The halls of the gods, born of blood and stone Share none of their power, with honourless men I have borne the curse, and loved her mistress The dark star revealed its secret And its unseen light shined through me Ancient and cruel, for at the gates I stand To walk forward to the beginning