The leaves will turn, the rivers wane,The summers breath will fade again.The ancient bough will shed its gold,Yet still, its roots are firm and bold. Fear not the winds that shift the land,Nor waves that break upon the sand.For change is but the forests breath,Not loss, nor end, nor bitter death. A seed must break to reach the light,A storm must rage to cleanse the night.And though the earth may twist and turn,The fire still warms, the stars still burn. So stand, my kin, with hearts set free,As rivers carve their path to sea.For in each dawn, in skies anew,Zandreyas love still carries through.