I'm sitting at work, and insanely bored. I was editing a part of Death of Faeslayer, and I had this amusing image of a loboshigaru pilgrim. So I kind of went with it. Probably not the greatest thing, but I thought it was cute.

The Loboshigaru Pilgrim's Tale

There once was a pilgrim,
Whom wandered far and near,
His eyes upon the Heavens,
In hopes of Avechna he would hear.

He traveled oft by Moonlight,
For Mother lit his way,
Yet Sun would hurt his eyes,
So far from He he would stray.

He once wandered by a lake,
Silver as the Moon,
And in it he saw something,
A surprise that made him shake.

For behind there truly was,
A rough mass of fur,
hanging low,
Above the ground.

Yet when he turned around,
He saw nothing,
Except a simple bee,
Fluttering abuzz.

For in a silken flower,
Golden as the Sun,
There was a simple bee,
Buzzing seemed so fun.

And so the Pilgrim knew,
As light creeped from above,
He'd seek out this latest treasure,
When Night and Moon did flew.

And so Dusk did come,
As Father went away,
And Night's shadows hid the land,
Moon would lead him without stray.

As his feet would guide him,
In Mother's loving light,
He'd hurried to the lake,
To search out his thing of fright.

He stared long and hard,
Yet saw nothing but himself,
And as the stars did dance,
He turned - and then he glanced.

There it was!, he knew!
It was clinging to his back!
And with a yelp of fright,
He went off in hasty flight.

Another day would come,
And pass as it always did -
He'd gorge upon some fruit,
And rest his weary head.

And when Night took Sky again,
The Pilgrim would emerge,
With a stretch and yawn,
From past day's hallowed den.

This day, however, he avoided the fated lake,
For whatever hung around there,
Would surely never wait,
And a bite upon his rear,
He would surely take.

So past the lake he sprinted,
With all the force he could,
Until he hit the mountains,
And climbed as though he would.

And as dawn descended,
He knew his goal was near.
He took his holy book,
And about the cave he peered.

Seeing nothing here nor nothing there,
Not even a tired, ancient bear,
He prayed, ate, then slept,
And Dreams took hold of fear.

For there within that empty cave,
Where he rest his tired body,
His head upon a seal did rest,
And dreams it would forever make.

And as the day grew tired,
And Sun took his nightly rest,
The Pilgrim pursued again,
What would truely be the best.

And as he reached the statue,
As Avechna towered high,
He smiled and danced with laughter,
He made a ruccous and a banter.

And there beside the statue,
Was a silver moonlight pool,
As though Moon herself did guide him,
And there he saw himself a fool.

For as he reached this point and prayed,
Enlightenment was his,
And as he turned from the pool away,
He found his fears unmade.

For the thing that did follow,
It bore no teeth or claw,
It carried no ill-contempt,
No hateful words or slaugh.

For there he saw the truth,
As Moon smiled far above,
For the Pilgrim's Tale was solved,
It was only his tail that followed,
Like a silver moonlight dove.