The stagnant waters, the crippling chains,

the arms of the law weigh on poor Hal as he struggled

to break apart words that held him frozen,

and all he ever did was raise the dead, like the dead

do not like to be alive,

too bad some people had different views, and his opinion

for simply smite shut, sewn up, the words began to become

frantic in his mind as he saw the spaces in between,

in between where they no longer held power,

for in the portals, in the stone caves, in the unnamed,

there were many such places where Hal could be left

untouched, unmolested when he learned more spells,

spells that might very well disturb some. And unleased them,

he would be safe there. The writ did not have absolute power,

no one did.