Forlorn streets of fantasy crisscross through
All my empty pages where once ink had spilt
And seeped deep into the faded parchment
Still untouched after all these years.
Hark the call of precious tales
History's ebb and flow
Beyond the dreams
Beyond hopes
Of men.

Fading,
That echo
Floating inside
Still sings to me
A myriad of stories
About Gods and battles
Spilling valour and blood
Strife and chaos across the lands
Saviours and martyrs whose ballads
Sing out across these empty pages in my hands.



Penned by my hand on the 24th of Scarlatan, in the year 582 AF.