like heaven's rain or tears,
and washes the years, the dust of many stories
from the High Tale of the Dragonlance. 
For the ages deep, past memory and word, 
in the first blush of the world
when the three moons rose from the lap of the forest,
made war on this world of Krynn.

Yet out of the darkness of dragons,
out of our cries for light
in the blank face of the black moon soaring,
a banked light flaired in Solamnia,
a knight of truth and of power, 
who called down the gods themselves
and forged the might Dragonlance, peircing the soul
of dragonkind, driving the shade of their wings
from the brightening shores of Krynn.

Thus Huma, Knight of Solamnia, 
Lightbringer, First Lancer, 
followed his light to the foot of the Khalkist Mountains,
to the stone feet of the gods,
to the crouched silence of their temple.
He called down the Lancemakers, he took on
their unspeakable power to crush the unspeakable evil,
to thrust the coiling darkness
back down the tunnel of dragon's throat.

Paladine, The Great God of Good,
shone at the side of Huma,
strengthing the lance of his strong right arm,
and Huma, ablaze in a thousend moons,
banished the Queen of Darkness,
banished the swarm of her shreaking hosts
back to the senseless kingdom of death, 
where their curses swooped upon nothing and nothing 
deep below the brightening land.

 

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