Part I
We bounded half a day
Creek, stream, river, and fjord
We bounded half again
Past Buzbert's hut, the hermit's humble abode
smells of warm bread, burning leaves, and spices filled the grove.
Spero Myles, a faithful friend, saw no wrong, and lead the way
Libro Sgarbatto, with heart of gloom, heard no song, and followed all the way.
One walked without rhythym but missed no steps
The other ran in time past deciduous growth and spiderwebs.
Beneath a willow's tears
There laid a figure frail and struck with fear
No words issued from her lips
Still the messag was clear
Do not touch!
For i am Contagion
And i long for a hero
One who is brave and honest and thorough
Spero wanted to stop
Libro said "i'd think not"
It's an awful coincidence her waiting to be sought.
I am Vetti Pouc, a wanderer too
Time and distance held no hinderance and danger did no boding
Once upon a time I wondered as i wondered
And paused with thoughts provoking
How can my small actions stop the world
It spins on and on regardless?
If i right a wrong evil yet goes on
Are not my actions useless?
With her own quest stayed
She tilted, measured, and weighed
Nature and eschatology
Venturing no further she cast her vim
On scrupulous blades of uncertainty.
Spero and Libro engaged her for a while
Spero spoke words of exubberance
And Libro words of weight
Hour by hour. Parley and debate.
They sang her antiphon and let it gestate
On they travelled and promised to return
To dredge her from her rhetorical fen
But as they left and turned away
She forgot they had ever been
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