Long before my birth, You departed from this world,
Your essence now in every branch, in every leaf unfurled.
Infused within the very being of the forests wild,
This plan of Yours has come to pass, and we are reconciled.

In my youth I pledged my labour to Your legacy.
Unswerving in that goal, I've yet to stray from this decree.
To nature, which sustaineth life, my own is ever sworn,
Humble in my duty while expecting no reward.

But Mother, often danger looms, and where to cast my eyes?
What counsel shall I seek when others ask me to advise?
In your absence rose the Lady of the Groves, of Wildwood,
For years we looked to Her, but She is gone, it's understood.

So now Whose wrath might rain upon the forest's enemies
When scarred they are and ravaged by such cruelty and greed?
Who shares the indignation and the fury of my soul?
What God shares my devotion to nature as a whole?

The Garden hosts a Pantheon, yet still Their realms fragment.
My questions go unanswered, They misread my true intent.
I do not ask to criticize, to blame or to accuse,
I simply wish to understand, my rough words please excuse.

I draw a sad conclusion but at last my sight is clear
And with this knowledge I continue on, I persevere.
There will be no Divine protection of the forest lands,
The care of Gaia's memory now lies in mortal hands.

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Scarlatan, in the year 413 AF.