Cloaked in silver, I ride the sky, a goddess with a watchful eye. Sister to the sun’s fierce flame, in legends old, I earned my name. I guide the hunt, I bless the night, with silent steps and borrowed light.

I ride with the sun and sleep under stars, my boots dusty from journeys afar. With a rope in my hand and a hat on my head, I tame the wild where others have fled. I don’t need a saddle to carry my pride, who am I, with the open range as my guide?

From ancient woods, a whisper’s keep, a golden tear, both soft and deep. Beneath my warmth, forgotten things, bound in silence, time still clings. I speak of ages, lost but near, what am I, encased in years?

I wield the sea with mighty grace, three sharp fingers, one strong face. In a god’s grip, I rule the tide, with every wave, the oceans glide. I’m not a utensil for food or feast, but in my hands, the storm’s unleashed.

I am the hymn of what once was whole, a silent scribe of a vanished soul. I wear the grey of memory’s veil, In death, I speak what life won’t tell. I mark the end, yet still a prize, what name am I, from which phoenix rise?