The slopes of Adrianna’s Crown spiral and curl.
Their clairvoyance rages over never-melting peaks,
cliffs that withstand the ages.
The gusts that churn from the top of Mount Gale
resound beyond the rim of the vortex.
The slopes of Adrianna’s Crown spiral and curl.
The rush of prevailing wind brings sweeping back
the lingering echo of a past murdered by its future.
Underneath her piercing cry, the wind announces:
“Betrayed, their ascendants black of heart,
the sorrow of her father’s death brought screaming forward,
the tumultuous shaking
of what must have been a Titan’s footstep.”
Each spiral whipped and curled into its preordained word.
“When the dust settled and sky turned back to cloud,
the aftermath was the creation of the mountain crown
and, at its heart, the wearer, Mount Gale.”
The wind also said:
“Her supposed sacrifice — distant, unwitnessed,
the grains unable to be reversed back to the event —
became the last gift to her people,
who named in her honor never-melting peaks,
cliffs to withstand the ages.
And the mountain they would climb,
seeking the wisdom of the famed sorceress-clairvoyant.”
Adrianna’s Crown nurtures the people of the Hourglass —
mathematicians, clockmakers, soothsayers and seers,
a land to call their own, where grains continue to tumble.
The slopes of Adrianna’s Crown spiral and curl.
For three thousand years, paths have wound and forked
then thrice more again, wending their ways into the future.
The slopes of Adrianna’s Crown spiral and curl
over never-melting peaks, cliffs to stand the ages,
to the summit of Mount Gale, the vortex atop
those hoping for a glimpse into the future,
of answers meshed within the depths of the world.
