A poem by Toc Anaster. "I went in search of deathIn the cast down wreckageOf someone's temple naveI went in search among flowersNodding to the wind's wordsOf woeful tales of warI went among the blood troughsBehind the women's tentsAll the children that never wereAnd in the storm of ice and wavesI went in search of the drownedAmong bony shells and blunt wormsWhere the grains swirledEach and every one crying outits name its life its lossI went on the current roadsThat led me nowhere knownAnd in the still mists afieldWhere light itself crept uncertainI went in search of wise spiritsMoaning their truths in dark loamBut the moss was silent, too dampto remember my searchFinding at lastwhere the reapers sowCutting stalks to take the seasonI failed in my proud questTo a scything flint bladeAnd lyi