Master Samak
Productive! Steward Leprechaun L&L
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Bardic Song A full three times the branch did bend before it fell, undone so not by nature's chance nor wizard's spell. Attend and list to learn it well. The first unto a breach did sway, where fancied men their thoughts bewray. We nearly danced us all to doom till madness did itself consume— A tasting pained we can't unsing, from thence no courts we held in ring. Escaping brave, the earth did sigh and deigned to bid the airs to cry, to never see though sights or sounds the cowards' face which haunted hounds. But this, the ways unknown to all, did bend a second ill to call, A Will owed for to fog the mind to lose the past, to freedom bind. Alack those name-lost leaders' fear to force us all with aimless steer. What truth unties such knots which lie to bind the low to very high? Against this ill could none prevail. It brought from all a desperate wail to near and far, to rock, to stone, to eldritch and ancestral bone. No old nor new could right the wrong, no mortal light could shine so strong. Extinction nigh, the deed was done. We failed soon after we'd begun. A fog outweighed the setting sun— Until They All Stepped In As One! The Sun be praised! The Moon revere! The Gods once more did interfere. They stripped away foul Death's embrace. They leaders forced to see their face. With pride, with shame, they turned, they fled, they dared the Makers rule instead. But for salvation came their price: The gods would not so meddle thrice. The world restored, none tarried more. The Heavens closed forevermore. No council left to council keep, Just parted words, a rain to weep. If we will too perchance survive, then we will act with our own lives. Wise words were they in last impart, to give the blossoms new a start? Think on them now, as last we part, to heed them well and keep heart. "Yet wait a wink," say thee to me, what of the third to threat the tree? "That answer's in a keeper lost, a knight's protection double-crossed—" But can't say more. I've not been told. Except the gods or monarchs old, there's none the history do know, how last it fell, yet still we grow. And grow we on, is not this true? Aren't still we here, have things to do? Then rise, away, enough, my tale! Learn what you could beneath the veil. Give heed the two, fear for the third, And think the rest as things absurd! In this, you'll live as long, at last, now full of sense and quaff, repast, to nevermore repeat the past!
< Message edited by Master Samak -- 10/17/2019 11:02:33 >
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