The sun was slowly dawning
As I sat beneath the awning
Wishing for the swiftness of the sunrays to appear
But the thing was slowly creeping,
Lulling all my soul to sleeping,
As my strength was slowly seeping,
From my bravery to fear.
I'd been telling myself often there was naught for me to fear.

Then I heard a ghastly creaking
Of the voice of death beseeching.
A voice that was too deep and dark for any ears to hear.
Then the slowing sun approaching
Slower still with desp'rate coaching
Unto my death encroaching,
Where the bloodsteeds never steer.
I would make my choice before the sun or shadow saw my fear.

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Mayan, in the year 381 AF.