intricate
the works of metal
of brass,
as if tiny cogwheels
the crowns of an inner universe
ever spinning
and ever still,
at the mountains heart
of civilizations that had walked forth
as if music making with some unknown playing hand
the city is
a shiny golden organ
a palace of the dreams and of the dreamt
complex, not for purpose but of the simple beauty of complexity
uncarved the throne was
and unbejeweled
but by the minds of its' beings
its' ancient men
that had lived before time...
till their dreams became too a lake
a depth of wine in a chalice
that upon the crystals of fancy the greatest of castles stood
and stands in shadow as even to this day.
so they say
The port area goes down to the crystal Lake of Nsimdiliar
It is said in local legend that the lake is a long ago dream of Tht'horin of Ulbqduur
made liquid,
and timeless they say, even by the will of the cave of itself..
thus the waters and what surrounds them is held with special reverence
both of which locals of old hold to be as living as beings....
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