I am born from wholeness, yet I am never complete. I wear a silver smile but hide the rest of my face. I cut without a blade and cradle the night in my curve. I am not a circle, though I come from one. I am not empty, though I seem to be missing.

Bold seafarer clad in iron, sails the northern winds, where gods whisper in the frost and tales of conquest echo through time.

Where frogs leap and lilies float, a mirror for the sun, a gentle cradle of whispers and reflections, home to the still and serene.

I fuel your fire in the dead of night I’ll be a strong house if you do it right With my source standing high on top of the hill I’m the last name of the infamous Will

For a natural treat, there's nothing sweeter, But be careful with me or wind up full of stingers.