(Sagas from the antediluvian Scrolls)
Black winds whispering 'cross the fens,
In eldritch coils (jewelled and gleaming) spires entwined
Enraptured by the moon's sweet spells,
'gainst the skies of (Bleak and brooding) winter blackly etched.
The Topaz Throne of Kings is crack'd, eon'veiled, enrob'd in black,
Ensorcelled blade glimmers sunset's fire, saga-spinner, take up thy lyre.