The Lament of Northerland

In Northerland, where the icebergs gleam,

Helmsmen navigate through a fractured dream.

With fleets of sea-ships, they surround the shore,

While gangs of shadows whisper tales of yore.

Calling foul, the moral compass spins,

As trunks of blackberries hide the sins.

In the swamps, where the species shrink and fade,

The gardener's hands are weary, yet unafraid.

With a deduction made under a winter's chill,

They seek to refashion what time cannot kill.

Romance thought-bubbles, floating in the air,

Yet the poison of greed leaves a bitter glare.

The Aunts, with their wisdom, discuss and debate,

While the enemy liars conspire to create.

In this world of omissions, where truth is a game,

The stakes are high; the players feel no shame.

Each limb that reaches for a brighter dawn,

Is met with the weight of burdens drawn.

And yet, in this chaos, a voice rings clear—

A promise of change that we hold dear.

Through the frills of spray, and the echoes of past,

We gather our strength, our spirits steadfast.

For in this journey of life, both harsh and sweet,

We find our way forward on resilient feet.

So let us not linger in shadows or shame,

But rise with the courage to reclaim our name.

In the heart of Northerland, where dreams intertwine,

We’ll craft a new future—bold and divine.