What tangled webs fate does weave,
that those entrusted are destined to deceive.
We walk this life on it's delicate strings,
Ever turning and falling - climbing, crawling.
Yet like Lorielan's mazes there is a curious truth,
This life may end at many years, or in youth,
The choices you made were really quite moot!

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Lupar, in the year 468 AF.