Wednesday, March 2, 2011

But though the fountains now run dry... Asodel the mourners lie.

Beneath the mountains of the sky.

And as the city slowly falls, they wait within the death-still* halls.

As hawkers flee from their stalls.

Burning buildings tumble down, as floods entice the fools to drown.

All for taking up the Platinum Crown.

*No relation to the death-stills from Dune.


  1. Someone took their poetic vitamins this morning!

  2. Thanks! I'll finish it off in a bit, but I wanted to get it written down.