An unnerving whispering shriek,
A bullet on the wind.
Flying above the celestial sphere,
Without a care in the world.

Wandering through the primordial wildwood,
A noise, a murmur, a mourning.
Glancing around, eyes wide with awe,
Questioning, wondering, suspecting.

Through the highway, passing, but without transient awareness,
Shuffling of feet, hazy vision, unwelcoming presences.
Hiding in the undergrowth, bewildered and misled,
What is this reality, if that is what it is.

Down to the caverns, deep beneath the landscape,
A sense of wanting, just what is this touch?
Ear to the ground, I feel endeared.
Is this where I am to belong?

A stagnant pond, I hate this life.
This existance, this need of wanting.
Just where do I belong? This I don't know.
Affection is beyond me, am I just an artifical, nebulous existance?

I scream aloud, head back with malaise.
Love. What is it? I need its warm embrace.
The whole subject seems so anathema to me.
I plead to the Gods, but get no reciprocation,
Are they even aware of my plight?

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Lanosian, in the year 206 MA.