And there in stone's grasp did I lay
Lost to dark and lost to day
Wondering what I would have to say
Should I arise again The Fey.

So I concluded with little thought
After idle minutes wrought
That for time enough I have so fought
For company I have always sought.

A little this, a little that
Judgemental as my little cat
Upon my conscience I think I spat
And free again in stars I sat.

And then when bored I do believe
My idle ways to so relieve
To purge my mind and empty sieve
Of silly things I did conceive.

And say to say, with unspoken word
With tongue as light as charming bird
And humor known as quite absurd
I'm sure by now you have concurred
That from my sleep I've finally stirred.

And, so to say, I've missed a few
Not the lot, but just a few
And so with less time on the quill
If my flying hand would be still
I would like wish you wealth
Luck in marriage, and good health.

But if very dead your body be
I hope the sun you never see
And if so from behind veil
For undead skin is tender, pale
And no-one likes an undead wail.

With less time now in ink well
I do believe I'll say farewell
Dear Varian this rhyme is hell
In my head I hear the bell.

Be well.

(Bell!)


Penned by my hand on the 17th of Lanosian, in the year 229 MA.