The Ballad of the Night Gamma Posselt

In the darkest deepest midnight

On the darkest deepest night

Three figures gather, Figures of pure black. Their meeting was tradition, A tradition born of need. To keep the forces out of sight, Forces of the night.

The three held powers born of night A night like this, dark and deep And then one spoke, Its voice with peace resounding, echoing, Throughout the forest glade in which they stood

“On this night, 10000 years ago, We three keepers were born of Need, Brought forth from Chaos, Imbued with Night”

The second spoke, A voice made of howling wind and striking thunder: “We three keepers brought together, Made to balance, to balance through the night Balance the order and the chaos, To keep alive that which grows.”

Then the third lifted up its arms

Casting off the garments made of night

Revealing a being made of light And spoke with a voice

Of splattered sunbeams on a forest floor

“We keep all that grows living, thriving, Through the balance of the powers, Great and small, green and black, To keep the Chaos in its Order”

The first said simply: Let us begin.

Hey Siri, where do I go?

Jolie Bahmanpour