The Cycle’s Call
By the Bright Amethyst, Relawen
I came upon a sapling green
Small in stature, quiet, lean
Its silent, understated sheen
I asked the things that it has seen
As it begins to grow.
It told me of the owl’s plume
Beyond where lovers’ passion blooms
Above where battlefields entomb
As it begins to grow.
It told me of the crimson red
Of roses circling the bride’s head
Of the tapestry’s worn, tattered thread
Of blood that, too soon, has been shed
As it begins to grow.
It spoke of the sun’s soft, warm light
Of a friend’s betrayal in the night
Of a Secian’s sparkling eyes, so bright
As it begins to grow.
It spoke of waves on the ocean shore
Of beating drums, the trumpet’s roar
As kingdoms fight their bloody war
Their children who will sing no more
As it begins to grow.
“My father’s death gave birth to me
Sturdy trunk, a proud oak tree
The fire set his spirit free
And I began to grow.”
When one ends, another begins
Where life ceases, it starts again
All the virtues, follies, and sins
The moon’s rage, and daylight’s chagrin
And we begin to grow.
Life renewed from time past
Old beauty by the new surpassed
The forest is awake at last
When I began to grow.
All are born, and all will die
The castles fall and doves still fly,
Seasons parade ‘till the end draws nigh
As I turn my branches to the sky
And I begin to grow.
Nature’s Circle finds us all inside
Ne’er a soul to ever hide
From time’s march, the rhythmic tide
And we begin to grow.
I stood from the sapling, and I knew
The things it said had all been true
The old is laid bare to prepare for the new
When my time and yours here is through
Another will start to grow.
A sapling sprout, an old tree’s fall
Young and old, we are One and All
Affected by the Cycle’s call
We each, in turn, will grow.