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| I don't write poetry. I heard this in a dream, then wrote it down when I woke up. |
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Come with me, oh come with me,
Babe o’ the barren lands.
Across the frosty tundra,
And through the burning sand.
Through the hills of ice and stone
Upon the narrow trail,
To the shores of silver mists,
Where golden boats will sail.
Across the darkened water
Shall gilded vessels drift,
To the isle where sleeps the King
Who all the world will lift.
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| Of all Creatures | Knight part three | The story of a girl Knight (1) |
| The Dance | A girl Knight (2) |
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