I'm hard to comprehend,
Like a synonym for cinnamen.
Got spice to excise the sin again and again from many men.
Ten by ten they come, skating ice thin, just to fall through again.
Locked in rime, the freezing waters, pen them in my frigid fen.

From this pen, cold rhyme flows forth.
But ain't no torpor 'round this rhetor,
Rapid's rage remains unfettered.
Mainly- that's why I'm better.
Behind this smile, seethes the heart of a cold, unflinching moral debtor.
Like Raesh, I'm out here receivin' letters,
And sorting them in ways to chafe the Hearth's detractors; those bed-wetters.

I think I'll sever this stricture, allow room to retort
Who among the gathered will now pretend to hold court?
My deluge is ending, you're in for better weather,
But imagine when the hand who holds it lets slip my final tether.

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Valnuary, in the year 1010 AF.