Each has a path to follow,
While wand’ring through this life –
Some will take to instruments,
And some will choose the knife.
​
As for me, a wanderer,
Haunted by my muse,
I will sing of everything
From olden time till new.
​
And every sentient passion
That flows within our veins
Will be the stuff of my song –
Our highest joy and sharpest pain!
​
And while the world must tremble,
And feel Elpalzi dread,
And rise up with most dire arms
To face demons from the depths,
​
I will walk through hills and dales,
‘Long rivers and through streets
Singing with my starlit muse,
Of the thrill of battle meet –
​
For though I am a poet,
Wreathed with laurel crown,
The graceful dance of battle
Enthralls me without bound!
​
For to move with grace and strength
This body from Meraud
Or push the very limits
Of all of magic’s laws,
​
Nothing is so thrilling
Than to play the game
That then requires all my skill –
Life and death in balance hang!
​
But in truth such martial bliss
With love must tempered be,
And even my dread haralun sword
Must rest here in its sheath,
​
For my muse loves the simple times
As much as any great,
The smiles passed between good friends
Or a new one’s hand to shake.