Blood, sweat, and dust within this etching stone
The lest held solace of forgotten men.
Shakes and shivers under strained, unyielding tone,
Its form long lost to broken dreams and then
In secrets carried forth unto the last.
Yet left unshattered, keeps its immortal ken,
Some secrets of philosophies long past
Best left as were, though in this thing alone,
Men seek their wishes, all lost to its dull cast.


Eizriel

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Haernos, in the year 119 MA.