A Land Far Away

A child covered in the grime of the street walks into the Inn of the Dripping Dagger. He approaches the proprietor Filiare, and whispering some words to him, hands him a small pouch of gold. The child tacks a paper below the shields on the wall, and disappears out the door.

The City Sonnets: I

How can I think to speak my love to her?
This ‘City, with tales and deeds hid and dark
Who holds the hearts and lusts of all who dare
Approach her fire, and speak aloud their spark?

In this dark street, where grates breathe mist tonight
I stand, and seek the strength to grip my blade
To still my mind and breath, and seek the fight
That will and trust, sweat and blood, a warrior made

For is that not what I’ve become, my heart?
A soldier true, in passion sworn to rend
All beasts and trial, all foes who’d have us part
A once frozen man, that your fire makes mend?

Sweet ‘City, I cannot own or claim all you are, your flame
But I will defend, dear heart, and fight, and write, in your name.


The Sonnet is unsigned.

Very nice!

A young mother, child in tow, her apron's pocket near filled with a purse of gold, walks up to a beam near the Lhuvenhead Trading Company and tacks a paper to it. She stands reading it, a wistful smile on her face, until her son pulls free and she gives chase to him down the street.

The City Sonnets: II

Where would I be, if not for her sure heart?
Just 'City, whose long years of wisdom flow
A cleansing spring to seek the blight, and part
Its stain from all that's pure, above, below

Bathed in your light, I am your pupil true
Dear 'City, one lost man, who seeks your trail
Who from your guide finds hope, and truth to view;
That strength and steel, with purpose lost, shall fail

Not so for we, united then, dear heart
Endure as allies true, we surely will
Death's blade will swing, and from us many part;
'Neath our shield of trust, we lay, extant still

For what dark pow'r, or blight, or sin, can make our legend fade
When love and trust, joy and light, have our shield of ages made?


The Sonnet is unsigned.

A Dawnbringer, sweeping away the grime of the night from the gate at The Spires of The Morning, finds a paper tacked to the gate. Leaning on his straw broom he reads it through, nods approval, and continues sweeping.

The City Sonnets: III

If not for kinship true, how lonely then?
Merciful ‘City, your love is my ground
Supporting all my hope and joy, and when
Morning breaks, it’s your song that makes me sound

Lost for so long, have I sought family
A place and cause, that I could claim my own
True ‘City, in your service I am free
By your word and hand I’m stronger than alone

Turn back then shall we the dark, faithful heart
United kin, in soul and purpose true
Though darkness calls, and yearns to have us part
We’ll hold the ground! A fortress tall, we two

For who can say what comes, in evil’s writhing vapours bred?
It matters not. Joy waits at Morning’s Light, by kinship led.


The Sonnet is unsigned.