In Life's embrace, the Spirits rise,
A force to mend the weeping skies,
We tread where shadows once held sway,
And guide with Hope to mark the day.

With hands that heal the fractured earth,
They bring to life what once was dearth,
In fields where sorrow's tears did fall,
Strawberries arise, a hopeful call.

Through ancient woods and whispered streams,
The Spirits weave their powerful dreams,
Renewing hope in every breath,
Reviving life from whispered death.

From tainted lands, life re-emerged,
As seasons sing a sacred dirge,
May Mourners' cries now softly fade,
In light of what the Spirits bade.

In their quest, a truth unfolds,
That from the past, new life unrolls,
What once was lost, now redefined,
In naturea arms, may hope you find.

Yet heed this warning, those who scorn,
The spirits' grace and lands reborn,
For wrath of nature, fierce and wild,
Will rise to claim the wayward child.


Varshatesh Kuzirnai
Listener of the Praadi

Penned by my hand on Falsday, the 18th of Dharos, in the year 5 AC.