Another poem would be hung onto trees, one pinned onto the noticeboard, in a script the people of Regalia may begin to become familiar with, showing that this poet would write daily until people saw the truth and the lies in the Holy City:
Open your heart
Open your mind,
Lay down your weapons,
Stop with the fight,
A sword through the black,
A knife in the back,
A raven's call,
As it preys on the dead,
As it prays on the weak,
Of body,
Of mind,
Of soul,
Black as its feathers,
Is its soul,
Seen through its eyes,
Seen through the lies.
The madness in its eyes,
The truth in the lies,
Are hard to see,
But clear, at least,
The lies and the truth,
Truth and the lies,
Lie in the depths,
Of a raven's black eyes,
But twisted,
And distorted,
The message there,
But not the same,
Because the truth and the lies,
Are in its black eyes,
The eyes with a fire,
So black that it burns,
So dark that it hurts,
A ravens black feathers,
A ravens black mind,
Displayed on him,
The King of lies.
Open your heart
Open your mind,
Lay down your weapons,
Stop with the fight,
A sword through the black,
A knife in the back,
A raven's call,
As it preys on the dead,
As it prays on the weak,
Of body,
Of mind,
Of soul,
Black as its feathers,
Is its soul,
Seen through its eyes,
Seen through the lies.
The madness in its eyes,
The truth in the lies,
Are hard to see,
But clear, at least,
The lies and the truth,
Truth and the lies,
Lie in the depths,
Of a raven's black eyes,
But twisted,
And distorted,
The message there,
But not the same,
Because the truth and the lies,
Are in its black eyes,
The eyes with a fire,
So black that it burns,
So dark that it hurts,
A ravens black feathers,
A ravens black mind,
Displayed on him,
The King of lies.
Letholdus Nash
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