Untitled
Written by: Priestess of Naos, Marina Whytetower, Oracle of the Moon
Date: Wednesday, January 5th, 2005
Addressed to: Everyone
Long ago, with fleetings pass
Gone the winter and fall's hands
Given to doom the eye's of war
Clash their blades with battle horns
Games of the Divine hold the mast
With auburn watch, they bid who shall last
The hero of city and forest alike
Pawns in the games of ceaseless strife
Compassion, She stares, with eyes azure
And Creation, She watches for a cure
With Mysteries, who stands in nuetral glance
In bowed reverie, touches the past
Funeral pyres alit across the realms
But still, War breaks against the helm
Heedless of sweat, loss or gain
Only of blades that mark their stain
Balance hangs in tattered remains
With neither scale lifting the same
The Silver One speaks Her plea
And the Wanderer watches with unease
Spring settles upon her ruined throne
With Summer, her compansion, watching alone
Fires build in the eyes of the Sun
Who merely watches the skies and sees none
And Balance, She caresses the weave
Pours our Her voice from Avechna's reach
Stirring the hearts of those within
Like chords of a melody woven thin
And yet, Autumn shakes her watch awray
While Winter holds the balance frayed
Each one a pawn, though still therein
Know Balance restored is Balance within.
Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Urlachmar, in the year 107 CE.