I've dreamed of fire before
The smoke made my eyes sore
The flames did blanch the sapling's branch
Still new life grew once more

And

I've heard the daemon choirs
I've seen the ritual pyres
I've seen the hues the fog imbues
Its sickness never tires

But

I once saluted a tree
The tree stared back at me
It did no good, the tree was wood
Therefore I let it be

However

Your words were quite composed
The things that you've supposed
Saluting trees and cottage cheese
We mongrels smirk at those

Yet

Respect is given thus
Of words, I'll make no fuss
I know the minds that lie behind
Herein, I see us


Penned by my hand on the 18th of Glacian, in the year 664 AF.