What is the arc this stone decries
That spies the eagle as it flies?
Encompasses the starry sky
And holds the Earth, both wet and dry?
Defeats dark nights and swallows days,
But only stern command obeys?
A heavy handful in my grasp
If held, then all the world is clasped!
What's past or present, yet to be
Is small but plainly there to see!
Why cover up this precious thing
And keep it hidden and unseen?
Not of the Earth, this thing was forged
Of crystal, light and secrets bored
Within the mind and from the heart
And soul of him who most the art
Of wright revealed, of Feanor
Who men and elves and gods abhore!
Yet many crystal seeing stones
That rest now on the crumbling bones
Of kings of men, once towers graced,
And over sundering sea once raced
Their masters' thoughts and piercing eyes
That friend and foe alike descries;
How came these magic stones to be?
What of their power over me?
How in this crystal am I held,
What king shall my mind mold and meld?
My soul, shall it be opened too?
This orb of darkness do I rue!
De Bene Esse