Toiling boiling hands worn red,
Lying down to rest in a Mileth straw bed.
You jolt awake, and rub your eyes….
Your soul ablaze, yet ‘tis only sunrise…
Swirling, whirling, light surrounds,
“O, hello there” a voice resounds.
A flush of color, a mundane greeting,
A spark, a flash, two paths meeting.
Now, without a doubt,
There was a world without:
Light versus dark,
Deoch’s first spark.
But you didn’t hear it from me,
Shh! (It was Bindo’s dream),
Ignite little friends!
Curiosity has come back to renew us.
Now, Should you desire,
To assuage the fire,
That hungers for freedom and power.
Take this door to’ards the altar
And pray you don’t falter!
Lest Sgrios refuses your offer.
Me, you ask?…
We mundanes are shackled,
Auspicating sparks unbridled.
So, May this speech galvanize
Your inevitable, venerable, rise.
We do not dare imagine
But you do, fair Aisling.