Not all scars can be seen

In a time of deep uncertainty

with my NuBlaccsoUl in ruins.

The kingfisher Ja bade me follow Creepstar

To the mystical place

In search of grace,

beyond sheer Pradip mountains

Where the clear crisp ink of fountain flows.

Here the saints of Ignatius

stop to quench their thirst.

The journey held danger

when I came upon a stranger

I became enchanted by the spells

of a mischievic Pixievic.

Spell bound I watched entranced

  the sheer dexterity of the Busbar dancer

Whereupon My poor dark soul

fell deep in a hole.

I was taken through the worst by Steven Langhorst

To arrive safely at the hallowed grounds of Newvango

Where now I see

the Paradise in me.