[Wandering to Myon]
The furthest reaches of the world,
By shifting winds have sails unfurled,
A journey yet,
No target set,
To seek the land o' goddess whirled.
The Land of swamps in outer rim,
Human cities and those of hin,
A land of snow,
Where all wind blows,
None can match the lands of kin.
Step within, Myon's borders,
Walls of Marbles, and tall towers,
A people bright,
A land of light,
Within the core, artists flower.
A Mythal so bright, guards those within,
A land of magic, and friendly kin,
A place of safety,
A good heart is key,
And of Myon, there is no twin.
Poems of Akadi's Wandering Healer
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