Geschrieben von Isobel C.
Staring at a page as white as a sheet,
As white as the ghost who enthralled them
and reeled them in too deep.
What is the fate that we shall all meet?
If all pages in books stay pure white, I surely shall weep.
With my ink and quill a quest I shall fulfil,
To fill all poems with dark or light,
Is a quest that will surely lead deep, deep into the night.
There will be many a fright, on this darkened eve.
I will make my mark on this world filled with dark,
I will ignite a spark,
A flower of fire will grow to my desire,
And words that have been conjured as if by magicians
shall be used once more.
Strolling players play little music;
but its fading beauty is still breathing.
Breathe in the sound that their instruments make,
You must take in as many ideas as you can.
Fill many blank pages with words, as many as possible.
Dream dark dreams with little light,
Focus on the mirror images,
The shadows on the walls,
Light may eat away dark in the end.
This cycle returns and starts with blank pages,
You must then push them to their limit,
Break them but reform them you must,
And trying will then form unity amongst light and dark.
Causing havoc is only necessary when preventing destruction,
Destroying cities full of the helpless and poor is unsatisfying to the soul.
Do what is right; for dark and for light.
Two nations will connect and cause a commotion worth having.