The Voice of Reason

Deep in swamp midst dank and dreary
Dark brown mud have mind of own.
Squelching slopping sinking sulking,
Water chill Gnaash right to bone.
Plant are grey and laden heavy,
Moss from tree hang low to ground.
Ash are prickly, bark grow thickly,
Fern and bellwort all around.
Tadpole swim in stagnant brackish
Puddle, flip tail left and right.
Soon be frog with long tongue sticky
Croak in chorus all through night.
In Mannaseh live a lady
Young and pretty, in a way.
Tousled tangled troubled trebled
Voice like marsh bird bright and gay.
Oracle of mud and madness
In a hut of branch and daub
Live beside big trollish tutor
Maeglor, esoteric blob.
Apollonia is shouting
Gnaash run quick so try to see.
Fate is doom and gloom and purple,
Candles spiders prophesy.
Tadpole tell of Chosen One,
Ape of Talons, Orange Carp,
Heir of Hive of Minds beseeching,
Goat and virgin toss from scarp.
Does young girl know what is speaking?
Girl with wild and wakeful eye,
Oracle of Godly dreaming,
Is world future go awry?
Biting fly are swamp companion
Unkempt girl in rag to dress,
Riddling writhing reading, wreathed
In omen of profound distress.


Penned by my hand on the 18th of Daedalan, in the year 418 AF.