I. De Origine

I cannot summon the name t'was given me,

or recall if they offered a name I could be.

So I fashioned my own from the dust of my days—

it is Eidon, though “Don” is the name others raise.

But still, it is Eidon—no title I claim,

neither birthright nor banner nor lineage name.

It’s a relic unearthed from the life I have led,

from the watching of worlds as their centuries bled.

For my life has been made of the seeing of things,

of the turning of ages on time’s hidden strings,

while I never turned with the rest of them there—

I remained as the witness to all they could bear.

I have hidden my nature through eras untold,

through the ages so ancient they no longer hold.

For the empires that rose have all crumbled to dust,

evaporating slow, as all dreaming things must.

When the first fire was kindled, I stood by its glow.

When the pulsars were measured, I breathed in their flow.

I have walked among dreamers like one of their kind,

though their visions would fade while they lived in my mind.

I saw.

That was all.

And at times, it was more

than a soul such as mine had the strength to endure.