Justice in no form, chaos from order
For is it not chaos that you know about?
Arrogant yes, moronic maybe, but at
Least I form my chaos before I do
The same as shout.

Little sense, lecture us on sense
For surely you have more than to tell
Me I run low of it? Or is it not I
Who should shut my mouth, who should
Crawl back into a shell?

In the nature of words and of wisdom
About, I am sure you have some of them
Both in your mind; but your soul must
Grow weary, tired, perhaps time spent
Thinking of things, then

At least you would write me something
Enlightening, but alas, I fear, quills
Seem to have abandoned your body, and
No doubt I will hear more from you now
I await your next ill!


Jamethiel Windsong, Scribe

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Ero, in the year 381 AF.