The Coming of Trial and the Faith of the Trees

there by the rivers at Mena'lure,
atop hills of lavender grass,
now within the valley of the suffering,
my tears flow endlessly of the pain of this age
for i have come to the west-lands,
that they might know their discordant notes
and lend all senses to the warmth of the ice.
the stench of opulent rulers,
the screams from the merchants doings,
has extended to the heavens
and there is recompense brewing
i am gifted with sword of a loving edge
and a hand which may stir harsh winds,
i am come to the west to reveal error,
and bring into being the love of future times

(c) erik 9 April 2013, 3:16pm