Tramping wind-swept hill and bastioned stone
The Black Fantasy Man roams alone.
Many have seen him, though some forget
And later sigh with a longing regret.
For he opens doors to realms free and new,
And welcomes all, not a lucky few,
To share in the deeds of kingdoms strong
Or brave wayfarers who adventure long.
Or, mayhap, he may show his face
To declare, to promulgate, from place to place
To bending ears who wish made known
The secrets to crafting realms of their own.

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