(You see a piece of paper balled up on the ground, thrown away in frustration. You open it up, and find a song or a poem, mostly scratched out. Clearly a minstrel wrote this, or was working on it, and got frustrated, unnable to find the right words.)
Of the Sun and Moon
~L
Marvelous rays!
Devine Perfect fire!
A heat and a wonder wihto without compare!
I will never tire weary of thee.
Marvelous beams!
