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The Remnants' Prayer

The Remnants' Prayer

To the gods, whomever thou be,
We come, and pray on bended knee,
That thou givest us boon of thy purity,
Lest all creation fall, be our plea.
We hope, we fast, we revel,
Yet still this sickness bedevil
Us; we see the balance unlevel.

Oh! hear us, ye Qin!
For upon us the sun our skin
Hath burned, and we wear a grin,
For we dance and know it not;
We laugh though the plague us rot.
Gods, we toil beneath that sun,
Gather corpses beneath dead trees,
And weep till fire has run.

Qin...please set us free.

-from the journals of Mélia Lazarre, during the time of the Searing Plague