Forever I sit recording the stories
Of hardship and love, of battle glories
I'm listening to the scratch of my quill
To the quiet patter of sprinkled sand
The steady flow of dripping water, until
The history ceases to flow from my hand.
I am Astinus, keeper of lores
I am the wind that whispers more
Secrets than ever a child can know.
I am the child who frolics about
I am the dog who smells with his snout
The rabbit who hides in his hole.
I walk in shadows
I sing in light
I wrap in darkness
I cry in delight
I forgive friends
I enslave enemies
I make amends
A body I cleave
I am the tears
Trickling down
I am the song
Sung out loud
I am the scream
Without a sound
The darkness in enfolds me in shivering arms
The light tears the curtain hiding the truth
And yet I am neutral, not to interfere
With Takhisis and Paladine and all of their peers
I sit here and listen
To the soft scratch
Of quill to the parchment
And sand trickling down.
No one disturbs me
And none I disturb
Few have met me
And few do I meet
Yet still my dear Gilean
Tells me to write
And listen for sibilant
Whispers at night
The whispers of dragons
In elven kings' ears
The whispers of shadows
Guarding their fears
The whispers of death
Striking our love
The whispers of raindrops
Falling from above
Bertram, be quiet
I'm trying to write
A battle is brewing
Bertram, goodnight!
The dwarves are building
A new set of tunnels
Bertram, walk softly
A child is born
His father is mourned
Bertram, listen
The sound of the horn
Is blaring across thousands
Of blood-covered fields
Farewell, my dear Bertram
I bid you goodnight
The minotaurs will awaken
Before the first light
And so I will sit here
All through the night
My quill scratching time
Away as I write...