The journeyman scurries for the myth,
Alas - It had led to no avail,
Only to grasp sorrow's glyph,
And a wastage of his sail.

It was then - he knew,
The blue rose - nothing but folklore,
For hope passes as the winds blew,
As he screeched - "No more!"

Left with not a single mark,
As the journeyman left the cell,
For he has lost to the bark -
Of the accursed creature of Hell.

A lesson to learn -
"Chase not a myth, or live for disappointment -
Left with nothing but sorrow to churn,
And to your heart - the strike of Penthos's ailment,"

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