Chronicle of Nicämna


Deep within the cauldron of this ether’s magic mist, 

seasoned by the ages within fate’s eternal twist, 

rotates the glory orb that one world will know as Ta. 

There, bathed in giving light swung the lone globe Nicämna.


Aeons in the making from Ta’s hot gaseous fume 

through dreaded fires waking and slumbering ice consume.

Collusion of the cosmos a miracle compelled

upon Nicämna’s mantle brought gifts of life to meld.


A symphony of obverse in thought and deed prevail 

to stir the proud Nicnämnites their savage ways curtail. 

When once, in ancient times, there a helping hand outstretched. 

An act of selfless thought on forever’s page was etched. 


Glory swelled in Ta’s core at this feat reverberant. 

Straight the path evermore forward from that one moment. 

Nicämna’s tribes would grow in the glory light of Ta 

and each new child’s time would become an age of awe. 


Wonder upon wonder would Nicämna’s children build 

as with Ta’s dreams and love the blue atmosphere was filled. 

While keeping true the heart with Ta’s ever steady beam, 

the speaking of the heart then would manifest the dream. 


The ether stretched and morphed as its undulating form 

brought pressure and relief so to kindle peace and storm.

The purpose of a dream is to change the way things are. 

And so the children chose to dream far beyond this star.


Their dreams would soar to fill all the void beyond their reach. 

Each secret now revealed bolted firmly in the breach. 

But dreams became desires then morphed into lust by greed.

Consumed by addictions, excesses became their need.


Their dreams were filled with thoughts upon self dissecting thoughts

and calculated schemes and scenarios and plots. 

They thrilled themselves to thrill; quelled the gentle dreams of heart, 

threw caution to the wind and tore their dreams apart. 


The target, now their purpose, that the price must bring a gain.

Their reason held no room for spent suffering or pain.

The once so helping hand now held firm the pen of greed.

Nicämna’s tribes would gorge to fill their gluttonous need.


Ta’s gifts were coined as might. Not to aid but to control. 

The less were deemed the least and forbidden from the whole.

They lied to each other; they lied to themselves and Ta.

And justified their greed as a calculated flaw.


Nicämna’s treasures spilled as they sparkled in Ta’s beam;

the few enjoyed the spoils as they raped Nicämna’s dream.

Greed became a god when the bright coin became a need. 

The whole would surrender to this suffocating creed. 


In the midst of chaos, Ta’s ever shining glory, 

there sparked a quiet dream to tell anew old story.

The helping hand of hope once again reached out from shame; 

op’ning wide a portal through which Ta’s dream would proclaim:


“All who breathe are brothers; every soul is that of Ta. 

All that we imagine is drawn from the realm of awe.” 

Quietly the message spread this truth throughout the lands 

and slowly this dream healed all the wounds from greed’s demands.


Purpose was born of love and Nicämna’s children gleamed 

in Ta’s light from above from where all knowledge is gleaned. 

The brotherhood of tribes brought forth trust and tolerance.

Dreams were dreamed from the heart to guide the mind with reverence. 


The waters flowed as clear as the atmosphere was blue 

when Nicämna’s children learned that Ta’s love was always true. 

They never more would stray from the truth etched in their hearts; 

all were seen as brothers through the love the soul imparts.


The glory orb rolls on through ether’s eternity 

and cradles in its rays the sentient nursery.

The children know themselves in this dance among the stars.

Learning is the reason... ah, but being is the cause. 


N.N.  6/6/10