The Principality of I

Look to the North if you seek reason, Plato's light shines brightly there. Into the West, tempestuous waters, Fount of all that love creates. In the Eastern lands, From the Light of Heaven, A shadow of the cross is cast on the ground. Steer clear of the South, Its alluring darkness, With fair-seeming demons of dire intent: Visions of power, delusions of greatness, And others that should not be named. In the midst of it all stands my citadel, my sanctuary, Overlooking the Principality of I.