Oyarsa Malacandra

Many a name have I been given.
Malacandra, Mars, and Ares are three.
The Lord of War most often called.
I am what Maleldil makes me to be.

Battle in the heavens made me rage.
Now dress in the armor of the Son.
The Bent One sought the eternal throne,
But thrown from heaven was all he won.

His fall was swift like lightning’s bolt,
Sweeping the third of heavens host.
Entered Arbol’s Field ablaze,
Smote my world with loud boast.

The handra scarred by his blow
I met him before the stone city.
He laughed and slowly said,
“This is your doing, more’s the pity.

For when I offered you my power
You unveiled me before Him.
Consuming anger washed me over.
Now this planet’s looking grim.”

I took heed of his dark word.
In him malice finds its source.
The threats he volleyed forth
Were soon to take course.

He started his cosmic assault,
From Sulva’s rim he leapt.
Now his feigning arm I stopped,
Yet with his swinging arm he swept.

My surface felt the bite.
Frost stole most of its life.
So the Oyarsa of Thulcandra 
Ruined my world in his strife.

Yet by the name of Maleldil
And with His mighty hand,
He taught me how to mend
And heal my broken land.

Now Maleldil gave us power
To drive the Bent One to the air
Of Thulcandra, where he remains
Since we bound him, broken there.

The planets no longer hear him.
Yet the silent world did not forsake.
Vague tidings reach us even here
Of strivings, Maleldil, there did make.