"Who gives you your name, young one?" A elderly
voice hid her wrinkled face. Her hair seemingly burned
in the dry, dessert sun.
All around no clouds lay. Just a mountain above
defending the small sand village. The small boy's face began
to perspire, it began to drip as the answer was extracted.
And at that point she asked, "What be the name your Sudul
"My name speaks in tongues of moons, the *tzay of light breath."
The boy looks down at his dirted shoes and sanded clothes, "Sier,
my *fau, Sier."
All circle paths of laser roads."
Breathes in hot, mid day air she does.
As returning to talk,
My eyes have seen trends.
For ones named Krit is always friends with Bridi,
Sarzis always chase Martro,
Sier is a name of rebellion, young leader of disease of change.
Sad enough lonely you will gain, I once gazed a Sier.
He never knew it.
Eyes filtered the sky.
They both looked, dreamt into eyes.
"For what is your name?"
Starz,...My name is Starz