The Happy Muggers
Garden of Graves Poem
Found written on a stone in an archaic form of Elven. Apparently meant to be read in Common as it rhymes in that language.
Count you the shadows, watch the sun,
The wise know where they stand;
While knowing not the time to shun,
The fools must find themselves undone.
Like lustful swain or panicked child
Who beg another’s gentle hand,
The fool delves heedless through the wild.
The wise are not so soon beguiled.
When darkness falls and dreams portend
The rising of a fearsome foe,
The fool, swift-striking, meets his end,
The wise know foe from friend.
Let art and image point the way,
Abandon all you think you know,
For common sense leads the fool astray.
The key is simply this: Obey.
The wise must ever strategize;
They never play, unless to win.
They see the harm in comfort’s lies,
And seek to open wary eyes.
You’ve fought your way, you’ve risked demise,
To view the ivy heart within.
Now as the soul within you dies,
This knowledge is your only prize:
You’d never have come, were you truly wise.