It seems to me
In my opinion
Humble though it may be
That our city
Shallam, those great walls
Ken to many as 'The Jewel of the East'
Is a misnomer

Consider this, and these
The direction East
Is nothing but a name
The same
Left of North
Right of South
About face from West
And yet
Still pushing, rushing in the same heading
Treading mercilessly in a direction we name letting
It be known as 'East', but is it not
The destination, not the course of intrepidness
Less we be lost
Heading awry slightly to the side
Worrying about 'East', not the destination of the direction of our feet
At least we should seek to see the finish, not the course
Less we lose our hope, our goal, our driving force

So this direction we say, East it may
Be, and so it shall
But do you wonder how
We come to call it a jewel?

What is a jewel? A pebble
Shined to shimmer
To give off that which it is given
The radiant rays of light it reflects
Sending silv'ry waves to our sense of sight
And yet
What does it make of its own?
What more value does it claim than a stone
When put in mortar, what greater weight does it hold
Than that of a rock of a similar shape, if not a similar tone?
When they planted this city, where would their concerns grow
How a rock might shape that which is not its own
Or how it might hold up the parapets of our home?

So hear this
I believe
I see
That the 'Jewel of the East'
Tells not of our home
But in mind we call it
The stone to build tomorrow,
The path after two dawns we shall follow
Not shining
But supporting
Bent not upon reflection
The Cornerstone of our Direction

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Lupar, in the year 326 AF.