Canon I

Upon that high hill, those hungry beasts eyed
me as they pondered my action, and
found it odd that I had stopped, sighed.

As they gazed, it was clear that their hunger grew,
to lure those into those northern woods,
and sacrifice those who enter to

Hoonbik, those unfortunate to be cast into Eurdition.
And though the furnished landscapes sat close,
one could waunder until eternity, and never see a setting sun.

I then sat half way, and pondered the lights behind
their maws. What would this all mean,
if, by chance, I were to make it through these times?

A fading wit, and a false moral compass? Perhaps so, but
what rewards would I have to reap, save for
servitude in the vestibule of the working class's gut?

Also unflattering, I thought as the creeping beasts which gaurded gates
Inched closer, testing the boundaries set forth and upon
the ground by the Elder Gods, whom cast out those whose filthy slate

was writ with narrow words and inpure ethics. It was these beasts
which roamed about letting out howls of injustice by the Elders
that had gone through Eurdition, and, at the very least

had become fixated with their reflections. It was this fixation that
caused their spewing of bile into the well that had granted
them power over the weak minds, which waundered, then sat

then pondered, then, in turn, wrote poisoned Poetry sank deep
in the heart of Gnosis. It was upon this quandary I found
myself to be lost halfway on this hill, while my thoughts seeped

into dread of becoming like those gnarled beasts, which crept up yonder.
And where I found myself weeping for a guide, a guide which never came.