A still wind echoes through the night
Over seas, hills and vales
Nothing is hidden from its sight
It knows not all is well

A still wind sees those who pray for peace
It sees those gathered
It knows that for war there is no surcease
That to it men like falcons are tethered

A still wind is soon to be felt by all
The sound of preachers silent
It knows of death's pall
The sound of a life violent

A still wind sees those who quietly cheer
Knowing that solitude is their due
When the drums of war are no longer here
Isolated along their paths ensue

Penned by my hand on the 6th of Aeguary, in the year 748 AF.