The Unpublished Poetry of Ihvon Krunovslaviche

[barakaguru]

*Spending spare moments to write about his experiences, observations and imaginings, Ihvon keeps his journal mainly to himself*

[barakaguru]

Upon gazing into the dead eyes of an undead child

Oft had I heard of undead things,
And when I cross'd into Cormyr,
I chanced to see what torment brings,
The source of ev'ry fear.

A tomb fashioned as a catacomb
Rests upon a hill of grass
In Isinhold, where I roam,
Knowing naught of such secrets past.

I first cross'd into that darkness,
With my brother I did dwell,
And now I know I must confess
'Twas the hells in which we fell!

I wish'd for less than a cursory peek,
But my brother in his stalwart way
Said, “Here is where we seek,
Go down and be not afraid.”

Though we took great care to tread lightly,
We disturbed much on that foul night;
In my heart 'twas not felt slightly,
Ne'er had I such a dreadful fright.

Whose dead fathers are they who haunt?
Whose murdered brothers are they who hate?
To their visages ghastly gaunt,
New death of current life will sate.

Little known to me that day
Was that I would soon return,
And to my piteous dismay,
Of more sorrow would I learn.

With unsteady and uncertain steps,
I without my brother did go—
Deeper into those horrid depths
Behind a brave band was I in tow.

Ne’er in my life would I have thought
That I would cast mine eyes
Upon a creature so evil wrought
As such fear and pity in me did rise.

What misery, what woe bestown
At such a tender age!
Ages of misery overflown,
A torturous, barless cage!

One late and unforgettable eve
I again returned but on my own;
My mind could not conceive
Why this child could not have grown,

After so many long years past
A youth forever robbed of glee—
I laughed at my thoughts at last,
And, lo!, he did laugh back at me!