The knowledge of the clouds
beckons to the heart within
A yearning, a desire--
to know, simply, to know.

From gem etched in four-fold stone,
of tribulation and triumvirate,
the spirit and the mind--
with a void within me left behind.

From the reflections of a visage,
spanning thrice across the night sky,
the maiden, the matron, the crone--
where do I stand, what do I become?

From the howl of the hunt,
the pursuit of legend--
the pursuit of self,
discovery in the chase.

From the heat of the forge,
to meld and to mix--
an alloy of spirit and mind,
harder than the coldest steel.

I twist and I bend,
the primordial calls to me,
born of orange death--
anchored under Ethian's eye.

Where do I stand?

What do I become?

Penned by my hand on the 14th of Lupar, in the year 595 AF.