The Last of the Words is Remember

Lost is the way of our people;

Gone are the spiralling towers

Of the beautiful Mylayan cities.

No more can one hear the eerie

Mahizian voices raised

At the coming of the night.

No longer is the sea so endless:

Gone are the waves that crashed

'Gainst the sand bars.

In the past are the days of dazzling wings

And winds seething with life.

Gone is the time of the howling winds beneath us.

No longer can we see the trees

That would touch the sky.

Dark are the deep peaceful halls of the dragon.

No worgs run in the highlands;

No nightcats hide in the mountains.

Nor do the tyrans in the jungles

Crowd the peace

Of the Moors

And Great Swamps.

Our familiar constellations

Long have abandoned us.

Long after we ourselves are gone

We will remember.

Caathrynn Marionette

May 1, 2000.©