We shant in this lifetime remember
That stirring of dead leaves in the forest's heart
That gave birth to great empires
Nay, we are a shivering survivor
Hanging onto a brittle branch
Of a magnificent hollow tree.

We shant in this lifetime remember
That first blade of grass in the northern lands
That grew into an undulating ocean
Nay, we hold too dearly to the thought
Of never finding those lost promises
To venture out and find them

Oh, Children of Antioch
The desert sands toss and turn
And weep for your returning
Oh, Children of Stavenn
The barren edges of the world
Call across great distances for you
Oh, Children of the forests
The spirit beats like rain
Onto an old hide drum
And howls like wind
Through a wooden flute

We shant remember...
But we must never forget our roots.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Naturalis, in the year 420 AD.