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In all my modest travels abroad, believe me when I say ’tween the tigris and euphrates I’ve trod, and seen a Great Lighthouse by the Bay;’ A magnificent construct, endlessly tall, seemingly to the heavens it rose, but no light shown in its depths at all. An empty tower starting to decompose; At one time a gold behemoth, but now only vines cover its brick. Stretching to it’s zenith, almost with a quality of magic. An odd design aswell, no doors or windows on the exterior. It wasn’t marked on the map pell, and near lay ruins of those inferior; The origin was of an unidentifiable race. With queries in my mind, we began looking for a trace of any near mankind; Deep in the mush, we found a sort of makeshift native local. Stepping out of the brush, we questioned a local; We were directed to the priest, upon entering the makeshift temple, scared eyes darted at us, and released, he began after apologizing for his whimple; ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- ’Our people have not seen the light for many ages, but the stories of our ancestors show, in the distant times of great sages, that building emitted a saving glow; My clan had a historic tradition, rewarding those whose life was pure. With a testing expedition, leaving fate to decide for sure; The prize-a secret spot where lay ancient groves only believed in tale. Where gold comes abundantly in huge troves, and massive feasts that never go stale; Life’s final test for those who bravely seek, sailing down a vicious line of coast. Jagged Rock and decaying trees of bleak, with all the beasts that dark place can host; But then one day the structure had appeared, spreading light o’er the masses. Allowing those navigators to steer clear any Rocks or trespasses; A gleaming gilded monument. With no operators in sight, or master crafters that could have beat, its ornate workings to such a height; Upon first sight, the people knew the garden was now free. By trusting the light, they could cross safely; Word of its mysterious walls, was received by distant kin. Bread was broke in our hallowed halls. It united us then; Over time, those from the city came. Those slave, peasant, senator and king, all to rid themselves of mans common shame. Bringing gold, frankensense, mer and songs to sing; Our people now thrived, we quickly became a center of trade. But most did not predict, what in the shadows writhed. At our souls it rudely bade; (Cont'd in part 2)
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