This poem is attributed to Ceda Ankaran Qan, 1159 Burn's Sleep. "The Errant bends fate,As unseen armour Lifting to blunt the blade On a field sudden With battle, and the crowd Jostles blind their eyes gouged out By the strait of these affairs Where dark fools dance on tiles And chance rides a spear With red bronze To spit worlds like skulls One upon the other Until the seas pour down To thicken metal-clad hands So this then is the Errant Who guides every fate Unerring Upon the breast of men." ―Ankaran Qan
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