I am sorry;

a pitiful pathetic phrase,
such gravity it lacks.
I am not a poet of any form,
but I'm trying to sign a pact.

Oft presumed a welcome guest,
they say bring truth to light,
but the candle of unwanted justice
can be snuffed to hide from sight.

So let it rest awhile in shadow,
where truth is dear to hold,
and proverbs writ upon the wall
demand a rise in gleaming gold.

When a soul is lost I have a task,
a candle lit for all the nights.
Tonight, there shall be many glows,
for a legend of many fights.

One for the paladin of old,
of deeds writ on ancient walls.

One for he thrice-hailed-great,
whose name crowns highest halls.

One for the beloved father,
child's sorrow twice the cost.

One for a pirate unrivaled,
and vengeance fueled by loss.

The life was long,
the tale well told,
But this is not the end.

There will be an epilogue.
Oh yes,
there will be an epilogue.

Where justice will at last see light,
and dawn brings what its champion sought;
the vindication of a hero unsung,
or the retribution for which he fought.

The tale will close, in fire or quill,
the truth will have its day.

I promise you this, no matter what,
we're gonna make 'em pay.

I'd love to see you.
Soon.

Nez.


Penned by my hand on the 5th of Sarapin, in the year 990 AF.