The Litany of the Iron Root

Ritual

Praise be to the Iron Root, the silent anchor of the lowlands. We thank the Root for the stillness of the hearth. We thank the Root for the road that does not wander. By your grip, the cities stand; by your strength, the valleys hold. Deep is the vein, cold is the marrow. We honor the bedrock that does not yield to the storm. We honor the granite sleep that supports the weight of our children. Your silence is our security: your stillness is our peace. Blessed is the pressure of the deep strata. Blessed is the crushing dark that keeps the core compact. The mountains are the pillars of the sky, and the earth is the blanket that smothers the tremor. We praise the Iron Root, the bound and the broken. We praise the chains of ore that wind through the mantle. The weight of the world is the price of our footing. The mass of the continent is the lock upon the gate. Hold fast, O Root, beneath the billion tons of stone. Stay pinned, O Root, under the salt and the shale. For we are the weight that keeps you still; we are the living dust upon your coffin. May the mountains never crumble. May the plates never shift. May the seal remain heavy, lest the Root awaken and shake the world from its shoulders.