Ah, here you are now,
blank parchment, my closest friend.
Let us sit awhile.

Where is it you've been?
I've missed you so much, you know.
Why is it we split?

It's been a long time,
for ever since I've last writ.
My wrist itched with want.

But my mind's run dry.
Alas, the wellspring's run dry!
The words now mock me.

Look inside your heart,
will you ever forgive me?
The stories will come.

Great things will find me,
and through me, they will find you,
tales of grandeur.

I'll have yarn to spin,
and I'll want you right here then,
blank parchment, right here.

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Phaestian, in the year 583 AF.