A poem by Fisher kel Tath. "And all the ages pastHave nothing to sayThey rest easy underfootUttering not a whisperThey are dead as the eyesThat looked upon themRiding the dust that gathersIn lost and forgotten cornersYou won't find themScratched in scrollsOr between the bindingsOf leather-bound tomesNot once carvedOn stelae and stone wallsThey do not hideWaiting to be foundLike treasures of truthOr holy revelationNot one of the ages pastWill descend from the heavensCupped in the handOf a god or clutched tightBy a stumbling prophetAll these ages pastRemain for ever untouchedWith lessons unlearnedBy the fool who can do nothingBut stare aheadTo where stands the futureGrinning with empty eyes" ―Helpless DaysFisher kel Tath