After my last tale,
A prophet came to me,
She saw my ears open,
And we discussed duality.

A place of the dark,
and a place of the light.
Where mischief use to hark,
and pranks were in sight.

On the ridge before,
stands quite a sight,
An arbour of black,
latticed with white.

A portent perhaps,
of the Temple thereafter,
that prophesizes perhaps,
a tale of a dark disaster.

Shokufeh told,
and wished we would heed,
of eleven rooms within,
of events to succeed.

So ask the prophetess,
she regales for all to hear,
her hypothesis,
of duality, hope and fear.

Penned by my hand on the 1st of Aeguary, in the year 812 AF.