In unformed void, the voice was young,
a tone performed, sang song unsung.
New words carved loose on unmade stone,
Rose the First-Ones, from time unknown.

Each roared a hymn of minds that seer,
So above, knew of promise hear:
Eternal war for expanse tread,
March in starving hunger for flesh bled.

Colossi kneeled with enforced cries,
Wyrms broken, to become a prize.
Shape came to form, construct from bones,
a fortress made from slaughtered knowns.

So boomed armies, from unleashed gates,
Conquest, an endless plane awaits.
Danced the dancers of swords and spears,
Bestriding void for year on years.

Thus came the kings, rulers of whole,
Armies countless, made without soul.
Strength boundless, sat upon a throne,
a Council of Ash, it was known.

But the kings seeked for greater strength,
to challenge even gods at length.
Avarice consumed kings of old,
If the spine of worlds, were controlled.

But ancient spine, could not be tamed,
Without their minds, becoming claimed.
The voice of shared minds, now insane,
Now sought for destruction, Planes.

Then, Ivoln came, with stone heart,
For sympathy is not his art.
But spoke language the earthen knew:
Torture and exile for kings few.


Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 13th of Niuran, in the year 506 MA.