Useful And Fantastic: The Unwake Dirge
Val Yule's poem brings no coimfort for the greedy and wasetful.
This year's come, this year's even
Every night and all
Fire and sleet and crystal screen,
What blood can save your soul?
In all the time that you are here
Every day and all
What deaths you dealt you now may fear,
Have mercy on your soul
If ever you gave a poor man gear
Every day and all
Receive it hence to be your share
A pity on your soul
If ever you saved a plant or beast
Every year and all
Creatures of the very least
Bear your laden soul.
If ever you did not consume
Deserts away and all
That undead space may give you room
And haven for your soul
But if you ne’er held back to waste
This world, these lives and all
Then all your care and all your haste
Will waste your soul, our soul.
For now arise the seas of dread
The hail and drought will fall
The air around will strike you dead
Strange pests pollute your soul.
For what we took cannot return
There's nothing left to burn
Our entertainment comes alive
And none remain to mourn
This year's eve, this year's eve
A century and all,
See the shroud our greed shall weave
That cannot shrive our soul.
