In a time when stars were whispers old,
When fire and frost held tales untold,
The Earthmother stirred from sacred loam,
And made the forests Her hallowed home.
Then Forest sang and silence broke,
As Gaia spoke in green and oak.

The wolf laid down beside the hare,
While morning mist perfumed the air.
Each leaf a hymn;
Each breeze a prayer,
And rivers sang Her name with care.

The Forest dreamed beneath Her gaze,
Its heart alight with verdant praise.


Penned by my hand on the 15th of Phaestian, in the year 972 AF.