Back from the marshes

Back from the spring-ridden marshes, laden with the fruits, stalks, leaves, roots of haoma, divine. Spenta Haurvat help me, I shed age into the air around, fighting pain from bones too old, fighting with mounds that I once trod over without a thought. This may have been the last voyage such... Unless sustenance can be found and offered.
Arriving home I was found by my enshara, long-left, face darkened, on his right such flesh-clad-lightly, such woman, barely more then an infant he bought back to tend his roof. She was given pain, discomfort and came to know cause: Such worry, for her man, not yet ready to face all possible...
Life can scare youth more then death.
Such measure of new faces, people lost and drifting here. I remember times where five souls made refuge here. Now I see the dēw dance over the heads of such crowds, such gatherings. Where people gather they spill blood, Ahuras see me, they do. Such work, for me, for us. Such work.