Forswear the future.

I did not choose the soil beneath my feet
Nor the name of the rivers sprinting towards the sea
A divine inheritance entrusted to me, European.

Before my exhale, millions of voices run through the tree.
They raised the walls and etched the weathered stone
They left a beautiful birthright, so their children may call it home.

Our race is not ink upon a chart, nor ties drawn by distant hands. Our race lives in our hearts, told by stories and lost memories alone.

So let me serve the people I inherit, and may those who walk the road we leave behind, find a lost circus of degenerate souls intertwined.

May the spirit of the Hakenkreuz fall towards us from the battlefields, in a rush of glory: and our hearts be placed in a golden light, full of ancestry, sacrifice, and story.

Let our old banners stir the pot of the wind, as the names of our heroes echo below; refuting a people who abandon those who came before them, leave no inherance for those individuals to grow.

So let us carry what time has entrusted, not merely in materialistic findings,
but in homeland, in duty
preserving tomorrow from what we were born.

@NorthwestVirtue🇺🇸