This lady of the ocean,
a picture of devotion.
Standing dark and tall,
the seas at beck and call.

Staff above her head,
brings armies to dread.
Though tears she shed,
for ones long dead.

Dark seas wash away,
stains of yesterday.
There's more at play,
her pain will stay.

For strength she'll pray,
an answer to decay.
On that darkest day,
her faith will pay.

On shores of bloody sand,
you'll see her stand.
That staff in hand,
binds sea and land.

All historic sources,
will affirm as causes.
These titanic forces,
cleansing all discourses.

Even Worldreaver,
will try to appease her.
Bowing at her power,
they die in lightning shower.

All who appose,
the Blue mountain rose.
Will find their close,
in her deadly pose.

On this, the last day!
On this, the first day!
Cycles will renew!
Survivors will be few.

And all will plead in vain,
to see her once again.

But Blue mountain rose,
on sandy beach now grows.

Both sea and land lay claim ...

To soothe away her pain.

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Miraman, in the year 863 AF.