Seconds pass, minutes fade,
Hours revolve, days cascade.
Months progress, years retreat,
Decades end, centuries meet.

The city marches, stride by stride,
Waging wars on every side.
Yet they forget their roots below,
The truths from which their spirits grow.

Adventurers come, an endless stream,
Chasing purpose, fleeting dream.
Forgetting life's profoundest lore,
Becoming hollow, hearts no more.

They name nature as their crest,
Their goals held high as battle's best.
To scale the summit in dreams they try,
Hoping their lives are not a lie.

Oh, what pity, what tragic plight,
To live adrift, without true light.
My prayers rise, the heavens swell,
That they may find their truest self.

Penned by my hand on the 5th of Phaestian, in the year 965 AF.