How many stanzas have I penned?
Innumerable pages cast aside
Grand works to scraps and dust

How many verses have I sung?
Mere paeans to the shallow
Hollow songs forgotten in time

How many sketches have I drawn?
Lingering visions of lost futures
Nothing more than charcoal dreams

How many tales have I told?
Losing myself in simple fiction
Stories little but veiled prayers

How many pages have I turned?
As I rest my quill upon the desk
Letting another narrate the fable

How many chapters have I seen?
The tale before me enthralling
Ending never drawing nearer

How many joys have I felt?
Watching the author's words flow
Flowering verse blossoming forth

How many volumes have I read?
Myths into manifested imagery
Wishing for the ink to ever flow

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Sarapin, in the year 823 AF.