I know an ancient song,
of things both right and wrong.

Of sunken ships,
incomplete scripts.
Broken verse,
and speech too terse.

The words are all but gone,
the tune still lingers on.

Of seekers who don't find,
and loved ones left behind.
Of grudges too grind,
and those who don't mind.

Where those words now rest,
a child's guess is best.

Yet in the end,
no rules too bend.
Even gods are dust ...
Too the Wind.

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Valnuary, in the year 846 AF.