Before the Queen I kneel,
Bloody knee to a balm of moss,
We share now in Growth as We heal,

We now all share in the pains of loss.

Far below my Teacher's gaze I studied,
Til jaded grew from insult to insight.
I learned to tell clear from muddied,

Which is to know that both can be right.

Beneath my Guide's Veil I rest,
To pass to that place were even spite dies.
Nurtured yet again upon silence's breast,

I rise to the world with ever-bright eyes.

Yet even I can only fly so high,
Not by wing, but upon Wind's Grace soar we.
Into every nook shall I linger and pry,

A sense for the glory of the scents of glory.

Shine.
Sparkle.
Burn.

By these signs reveals all that is Divine.

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Daedalan, in the year 1004 AF.