Beneath the clear sky and weave of trees, lies a serpent's dream,
Grim rules of poison inked clear on shadows burnt in grey.
Sage nations seek to shun the charm, unlike it seems,
In each gust of death's smoke, a new warning to display.

Dark knight of halls filled with power, a fortnight to be seen,
In fields of coin and guarded shores, trust must he sustain.
While far away the raven calls, in lands of green,
The clock doth not halt, for peace to regain.

In grand castle of ciphers, seeks to learn the dove's shy coo,
Hidden truths whispered in forests of silver and gold.
Marrying minds with iron and light, a bond forged anew,
A dance with the ghost of future in the sage's hold.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur