You've not returned after leaving Cyrene for Eleusis, but unspeakably, your words from those halcyon days of yore array themselves before me, as I considered your departure for that hidden place we share, treasuring moments growing up together, which still abound in the deepest wellsprings of my heart. Nary a soul has seen you I reckon, least of all me. Prithee contend now for me?

The acorn that was set beneath the rich loam of our hearts, did shoot it's roots deeply, and while we wrestled to contend with forces beset against it, nonetheless a course was found amidst every obstacle placed before it, finding it's level.

Inclement weather, drought, blight, neigh extermination, these were but trials we endured, strengthening us, making us stronger to contend with adversity. We are the living dreams of the Great Oak, refreshed by those Zaphar streams.

The greater work the Ancient Circle of Druids spoke of I can see it in you. The vision was so clear to me when I witnessed your departure. Seeing in you, that once Great tree fed by crystal waters, and my heart skipped a beat, remembering our old guild hall, having overlooked the tree that gave birth to us all, being struck down and split in twain: was that was me and you? but restively, I know your yoke has become lighter, as the rites of returning took you.

Deep calls to deep, and I knew in an instant what it all meant.

The wisdom of yours words in our youth has left such an indelible mark upon me as they still lay heavy on my spirit to this very day, words of a friend carved into your skin.


" And you and I, old friend, we will watch, mostly from afar, shaking our heads sadly... while still being inexorably pulled to find a way to be part of it. "


We were given a great treasure, a meekness still pervades it, and we must protect it from the grinding axe that contentiously conspires to fell and root it out, deprecatingly against our better natures. Even when felled, the stump slumbering will multiply beyond any shadow of poverty, and because it was so carefully planted and loved, Spring always comes.

Stand ye in the ways, dear Prythe Lanthe and seek, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your soul,


Walk in beauty and with nature bountifully,

Antreus

Penned by my hand on the 20th of Phaestian, in the year 930 AF.