O Poet,
Make old worlds and Words New.

Make new worlds and words to bow their heads,
To behold and hold and tell the depth and girth and grit
Of men whose song was sung
Before lips were found to sing them.

O Bard,
Go in search of new myths,
Lost, but found.
Myths that point to the chink in time,
The place where golden suns
And silver moons do rhyme.

Dare O Child,
Accept the challenge song of Elfin friends,
Melding light and sound into speech and chime.

Ere the setting of the morning star,
Hear the rumble drum with Dwarfish hammers pounding,
Rounding liquid dream from stone and mithril bar.

O mere Man,
Repeat again the ringing of the mountain deep
That wakes the sleeping Kings.
Bring good, but thick Men back,
Back to the edge of time,
Awakened
And molten with desire.

O Fire, Fire, Fire….
Wordsmith unsplinter Elfin light.

Elliott Tepper 2010