(Pinned to trees on the outskirts, Degannwy and the Mist camp is a carefully written poem in rather exquisite handwriting. It's obvious that the poet took great care in making the quill strokes as visually appealing as possible, perhaps in an attempt to match the weight of the words.)
Dreamweaver:
Longing through lonesome days,
supplicating the sun to set.
I anxiously await your arrival,
should consciousness concede to what I covet.
Only in fanciful fantasies,
in the delight of darkness,
and in our notoriously nocturnal nature,
have I ever happened upon happiness.
Give me the gift of your grace,
the spell of your sweet surrender,
and the temporarity of tonight
will flourish into forever.
In the day I may wistfully wander
halfheartedly and uncommitted,
but in dreams I know not the words
lonely or unrequited.
~ The Knight of Passion
(The first copy of the poem was taken down on the outskirts, but quickly replaced by another)
