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Miquë



The poem is just a scrap of parchment, tucked away within the songbook of Telpelir.

 

Seeking, searching, whispered urging
as the Fires of passion, surging
Yet Water runs deeper than first seen
Sorrow can quench the flame

Illegible, within your grasp
Lies a silver bird so fragile
Let it free or hold it tight,
Either way for you
shall it sing