Let all who would listen hear,
The daughter of the Devourer speaks.
The voice of the Scribe cries aloud,
Lifts her voice in the high places,
in the lowlands.
An anthem of joy and peace for the lost
A poem of love and of beauty for the
weary and the hopeless.
A song of light and forgiveness for those
entrapped in the darkness and unable to
A promise of retribution for any who would
practice harm upon the Children of the Gods.
A story unwinds, unfolds, like shimmering rainbow
ribbons on the wind.
A story of life and death, birth and rebirth, hope and sorrow,
weakness and strength.
A tale of all that is, and all that is not.
Of choices made, and opportunities lost.
Of people created and uncreated,
Lives lived, and unlived.
The Gods weep for us.
They bow their heads in anguish and mourn.
They don robes of grey, and paint their faces
Their sadness overwhelms the heavens.
The stars burst into tears within their atmospheres.
The Sun rages in it's sorrows; the Moon hides her face.
The Children of All live in darkness,
So that they cannot see their own need.
Blessed are They who's faces shine with their tears.
Blessed are They who's hearts lie in torment for our pain.
Blessed are They who see the plight of humanity.
Blessed are They who created us, poor and wretched though we are.