A verse written in honour of Lord Neraeos and His realm.

Into a raging river I was plunged,
left soaked and chilled down to my very bones.
The current overwhelmed me, rushing past,
a trifle on its journey to the sea.
And rush it did, its power crushing strong,
in haste to join its like within the depths
beyond the sight of mortal landbound men.
Through mud and stone the water finds its way
underneath and through what blocks its path;
possessed of mighty soldier's strength; against
undaunted will no force can hope to stand.
Far down, and down, and down the tide was drawn,
past rocky shoal and schools of silver fish,
past fronds of kelp that sway down in the sand
to shelter sightless fish and scuttling crabs.
Submerged thus in this muted water-realm
the traveller remained in quietude,
a respite dearly earned, but brief, beneath
the sapphire glimmer of a nereid's eye.
As quickly as it came, it left again,
returning to the sight of landbound men
to break and crest and rage against the storm
that caught me unawares -- the Skylord's whim.
But by the time it reached me, it was changed:
the river's flow the same, yet altered, too.
And though I am the same whose faulty step
led to a nasty spill into the drink,
am I not changed with this experience,
this chance to follow on the water's track?

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Sarapin, in the year 461 AF.