Come to Me, When the Forest Sleeps
Come to me,
when the forest no longer breathes,
when the rivers forget their names,
and the wind no longer remembers your song.
Do not fear, my brother of the moonlight,
For my fire still burns
a small flame against the dark,
waiting for your shadow to return.
Lay your head upon my knees.
I will sing you the old songs.
the ones our ancestors wove
from the breath of dawn and the cry of wolves.
No hunter will touch you here.
No sorrow will chase your spirit.
Here, under Grandmother Moon,
You are home again.
Art by Serin Alar
Come to Me, When the Forest Sleeps
Come to me,
when the forest no longer breathes,
when the rivers forget their names,
and the wind no longer remembers your song.
Do not fear, my brother of the moonlight,
For my fire still burns
a small flame against the dark,
waiting for your shadow to return.
Lay your head upon my knees.
I will sing you the old songs.
the ones our ancestors wove
from the breath of dawn and the cry of wolves.
No hunter will touch you here.
No sorrow will chase your spirit.
Here, under Grandmother Moon,
You are home again.
Art by Serin Alar
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