They found two rivers braided in their blood,
and cursed the darker current as a flood.

They brought clean water, flame, and holy breath,
to carve one parent from the other's flesh.

They dreamed that half a soul might yet be whole,
and drove the knife where blood and spirit flow.

But what runs deepest does not cease when stilled,
nor ancient waters vanish when one wills.

What had been buried did not cease to be;
the second river only sought the sea.

Now one old current calls across the foam,
and waits to gather all its children home.



Penned by my hand on the 14th of Sarapin, in the year 1016 AF.