More than clouds, still darker,
My deaths exposed, my cries louder -
Not a trumpet of shame, but a call to rise,
To claim the truth no one denies.

Nothing stolen when feeling real,
I stand my ground, I speak, I feel.
All repeats and echoes, without repent,
I'll make true my own intent.

No matter time and lives and words for this present.

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Daedalan, in the year 998 AF.