In the shayed the subtle sword lies
the wrath of that our lord
born of that and flaming bird from the shadow he first was heard
he lives his life within the page brought to live by the artist sage
for in his hand the soul his sword
within the sword the flames of a spirit unkempt
from the phoenix those flames were rent
do not try his patients still
for flames do burn and the sword will ****
he guards the paper of a dreams light touch
be careful my friend that you don’t touch to much
for in the attempt to **** this dream
the Shayed will strike his sword will gleam
and if you take what is not yours
the shadows will drag you back to the Shayed
and justice there you will await until once more you’ll see the gate
you know the place where you will go if demons seed is what you sow.
But of the Shayed he’s gentle of soul just a part, of a better whole
he is a creature living
still a spirit of sorts and yet with skill, of the phoenix
this is true yet a part of me and some of you
the things we see perhaps unclear you know what I speak my brother dear
within the pages our guardian told the Shayed of now and the angels of old,
I see this spirit I speak his word I tell yee now of what I’ve heard.
He tells of times as yet to last
the times he’ll guard when we’ve all past
in his heart he wishes it not
but he will guard the secrets sought
he is a herald of yet to be
this the spirit from you and me.