On the isles of the Dawnspear
Mist surrounds the leafy scenes
Risen by the grains of Pash,
Above the valley rich with greens;

Wares scattered in the marketplace,
Nearby dazzling seas include
Armour in the armoury
And a bounty of Devouts food,

Like rapacious produce baskets,
Hoarding Gods knows what,
Foul with parts of fish and game
In parcels tightly shut,

Their underbelly illuminated,
Sparkling as one may pass,
Providing us a certain air
Of a wholly gathered mass,

A moaning ocean in a heaving land,
A debt the darkened world is owed
By undulating rhythms packed
With an unforgiving ode

The sunshine's dial, the cascade's tide,
'lo accidental grace
Of Sapiences shining pride
In a predestined space

Where chaotic sun demands
We shade our shy, and shrouded eyes
From the cold, inhuman stands
Anxiety will homogenize.

Forget what you know, the rise the fall
As Darkness will prevail.
For in its dense and ebon tide,
The zealous gathered only fail.

Penned by my hand on the 10th of Valnuary, in the year 866 AF.