“Deep in the desert, o’er painted rock hill, Once was an ocean aplenty until The Devourer emerged, the water was scourged. What should never have emptied nevermore would fill. Deep in the desert, ‘neath painted rock hill, The thwarted one waits for the levee to fill. The witch drank it dries, the crow stole her eyes, so she usurped its body and took to the skies. Deep in the desert o’er painted rock hill, The crow hag thirsts when the stormclouds refill. The crow drinks them dry, the hag tarries by, but not a drop descends from the grey desert sky. Deep in the desert ‘neath painted rock hill, The crow plots its descent into the anthill. The ants–unawares–have forgotten their prayers. The Devourer remembers and hungers still.” WitchFantasy PoemCautionary TaleFictional SongsFantasy PoetryFictional PoemBabarogaCreepy PoetryFictional Poetry Book:The Paragon Source: The Paragon