Our meek scholar,
Caged on all sides,
His tyrian collar,
And Diamond Eyes,
Beam endlessly,
Through walls of mist,
Searching restlessly,
For some lucky tryst,
With the great sea,
That envelopes him now,
In which he would be,
Truly made to cow,
He last standing,
Of his fallen order,
His heart demanding,
He stand taller,
Than the fled brothers,
Who in great disarray,
Abandoned this folly,
And sped away,
Alone now he dwells,
Upon the brink,
In a mighty tower,
Whose light will sink,
Into the Deep,
Of mingled ocean,
Lest he keep,
It in his devotion,
This fearful clerk,
Set upon by foam,
Duty will not shirk,
As water claims his home,
Rushes to the beacon,
Shatters beaming glass,
Clutches up the pieces,
The fragmentary mass,
Scholar of the Brink,
In the Dark,
Has eyes to see,
All things apart,
But can never unfold,
The rose in his heart,
That remains untold,
Too close to impart,
The Emergent Sea 